


Backstage

by riya



Series: Hidden Places [1]
Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, POV: Minato, SEES Team Dynamics, Stage Crew, Teasing, adorably unsettled Minato, cultural festival, drama club, toppy Akihiko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riya/pseuds/riya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>One does not say ‘no’ to Mitsuru Kirijo.</i>  Nor, apparently, to Akihiko Sanada.</p><p>~~ Minato and Akihiko get stuck on stage crew.  Mind-fuckery ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in-game the week of September 14th.

When Minato entered the dorm that evening, he was surprised to see an impromptu meeting in progress. All the residents were gathered in the lobby, Mitsuru standing authoritatively in front of the seated group. Most of the residents at least — Ken was in the dining room with Koromaru, swinging his legs and intent upon his magazine, and Shinjiro was nowhere to be seen.

Mitsuru turned towards him, pleased. "You're just in time, Arisato. Please have a seat." Minato shrugged internally and took the last open spot on the couch.

"I'll start again," began Mitsuru. "As you all know, the drama club will be performing in the evening after the Cultural Festival. Because all the club members are already involved in the performance, they require outside assistance as staff. They have asked the Student Council for aid, and as you will already be attending the festival, I have volunteered your services."

Across from Minato, Junpei slunk lower on the sofa. He tugged his hat down to hide his expression from Mitsuru — but that did nothing to hide his body language, which screamed his reluctance to participate.

"As I stated before, Aigis and Yukari will be running the refreshments table."

"Senpai," interjected Yukari, "I can't be there early — I'll be helping with teardown for the archery club's cafe."

"Not a problem, refreshments will only be open during intermission. You need to be there in time to serve customers; Aigis can guard the table by herself prior to that."

"Okay..." said Yukari, glancing at Aigis for her buy-in. 

"That is acceptable," she concurred.

"I still don't see why _I_ can't be on refreshment duty," grumbled Junpei from the depths of his hat.

"Apparently I can be trusted to not consume the merchandise," Aigis intoned calmly. Fuuka burst into a quickly smothered giggle, flushing with embarrassment for interrupting Mitsuru's meeting.

Mitsuru, ignoring the repartee, chugged gamely along. "Iori, you will be assisting Yamagishi in distributing programs and ushering." 

Junpei made a disgusted noise, which turned abruptly into a yelp when Yukari elbowed him hard in the ribs. "YOU'RE not allowed to be angrier about the festival than I am!" she hissed under her breath. "You're not wearing a stupid costume so I _don't want to hear it_."

"I can too!" he shot back. "Just 'cause you're sore about archery club... That's not my fault."

Mitsuru cleared her throat. Yukari sighed in irritation, but otherwise gave up and slid back to her end of the sofa. Junpei, undeterred, hunkered lower and scowled even harder.

Mitsuru turned towards Minato and Akihiko, seated together on the leftward sofa. "That leaves the two of you. You'll be backstage managing the props and scene changes. It's a modern play with very little scenery, so it's nothing you can't handle."

"That's more fun than stupid programs _too_!" complained Junpei.

"Junpei!" exclaimed Akihiko in his 'cut it out' voice. "Think about it — after you hand out the programs, you'll be done. The rest of us will be working throughout the evening. So can it!"

Junpei seemed slightly mollified by Akihiko's excellent point, but he continued to sulk. "And Shinjiro-senpai doesn't have to do _anything_ ," he muttered.

Mitsuru's professional demeanor finally faltered. "I don't believe he's...amenable to participating," she stated delicately. Junpei humphed but remained silent for once. She sighed briefly before turning on the enthusiastic smile again and aiming it at everyone in turn. "The food and programs will be delivered; all you need to do is show up at 6:00. Thank you all for your assistance. The Student Council and I truly appreciate it."

With that obvious dismissal, the team broke up to go about their normal evening activities. Fuuka pulled out her laptop, Yukari disappeared into the kitchen, and Junpei slouched off somewhere, probably in search of his PSP to drown his sorrows. As Minato and Akihiko were starting to stand up, Mitsuru materialized in front of them.

"I apologize for assigning you two the biggest job, but I knew I could rely on you. You'll need to attend dress rehearsal Thursday night to learn the ropes. Speak to Shunsuke Hideki from the drama club to get the details." The two boys nodded their agreement, well aware of the fact that you did not say 'no' to Mitsuru Kirijo.

"Oh," she added, turning back, "and don't forget to wear black."

~o~o~o~o~o~

The moment Minato and Akihiko arrived at the auditorium, they were accosted by a brisk young man wearing a large headset around his neck. "Sanada-san? Arisato-san? I'm the stage manager, come right this way."

"Are you Hideki-san? Pleased to meet you," replied Akihiko politely, towards Shunsuke's rapidly retreating back.

Shunsuke spoke as he walked, the others sprinting to catch up. "Thanks for helping out. I'm sure Kirijo-san told you we don't have much staff for this production, so it will just be you and the actors backstage. I'll be at the control panel, handling lights, sound, and curtains, and Namiko-san is on spotlight. It's really just this one scenery change we need help with.

"It's all pretty simple," he continued, leading Minato and Akihiko up the steps of the stage. "There's an office set, a bar set, and a living room set. These desks will stay here on stage left the whole time, but there is a scene change over here during Act 1. The tall table and this counter-y thing need to come off, and the sofa, armchair, and end table come on. Sofa, table, chair in that order — see the tape marks on the floor?"

He led them off into the wings. "Here's the living room furniture. You'll want to put the bar pieces down over there, so they're not in your way to bring the living room pieces on. It should take you three trips — one to bring the bar set off, one with both of you carrying the sofa, and one for the table and chair. You want to take a practice run?"

Minato looked at Akihiko and shrugged noncommittally. "I think we'll be okay," said Akihiko, checking out the tape locations.

"Good." Shunsuke seemed pleased. "The lights will go black a couple times before you need to make the switch, so don't take that as your cue. Your cue is a screaming match that takes place in the bar set." He smirked. "Convenient, no? After that the lights will go out and you're on. The tape markings glow in the dark, so as long as you work together and don't do things in the wrong order, you'll be fine."

Minato nodded slowly, trying to keep up with the barrage of words.

"Have either of you ever done this before? No? Well, try to be quiet first and fast second — you're less likely to hurt yourselves that way. I'll issue you a headset like this on show night, so we can reach each other...but really, it's best if you don't use it, because the audience could hear you."

He looked at his watch. "We hope to start the dress rehearsal in 10 minutes. So hang out, enjoy the show, and like I said, you can't miss your cue. Thanks again!" The last bit was thrown over his shoulder as he bustled off.

Minato shook his head in disbelief. "That was a whirlwind, huh?"

"Tell me about it," agreed Akihiko, still looking towards where the recently-departed Shunsuke would have been, had he traveled at the speed of an average human.

They spent their time before the rehearsal began responsibly: hefting the set pieces to check their weight, scouting out the space available offstage, and trying to memorize the specific arrangement of the living room set. Their task had come from Mitsuru, and half-assing it was not an option.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Turned out the play wasn't bad. Minato didn't know how the theme of modern ennui fit with the Cultural Festival, but hey, making sense of it wasn't his job.

The scene change didn't occur until near the end of the first act, so they had comfy seats available for the better part of an hour. Unfortunately, they couldn't sit on them and have a clear view of the actors at the same time. The sofa had to be positioned in readiness for its entrance, parallel to the front of the stage. There wasn't room to pull the armchair forward either, or they'd block the exit path for the bar set pieces. Therefore they either had to share the awkwardly positioned sofa, crammed close to the back of the curtain, or stand.

Minato got tired of standing pretty quickly. He elbowed Akihiko and gestured towards the sofa. He shook his head, so Minato took it for himself. If he sat with his back against the arm and put his legs up, he had a half-decent sightline to watch the rehearsal.

It seemed to be going well — Minato hadn't noticed any mistakes at least. Interestingly, the actors never seemed to exit on their side of the stage. Most of the early scenes took place in the office set, or at the back of the stage, where the backdrop indicated a street setting. He snickered to himself: what, did he expect most of the play to take place in a bar? It was surprising enough that the school had approved a play with _any_ scenes in a bar.

There'd been only one blackout thus far. He stretched, leaning forward over his legs and back up to pop his back, and wondered how soon the "screaming argument" would come. Stretching his neck to the right caused him to look at Akihiko, who was shifting from one foot to the other in obvious discomfort. Minato rolled his eyes at Akihiko's insistence on standing. "Psst!" Akihiko turned towards him. Minato gestured at the other end of the sofa, curling his legs up to make the space more inviting. "Sit down!" he mouthed emphatically.

Akihiko shook him off.

Minato gave a clipped snap, causing Akihiko to jump. He pointed firmly at the open seat, staring insistently at Akihiko until he gave up and sat down.

Akihiko sat carefully on the last cushion, sideways with his left leg pulled up so he could face the stage. Minato was highly satisfied with this accomplishment, until he realized that the sliver of stage he could previously glimpse was now a clear, full-on view of the back of Akihiko's head. Minato laughed at himself inwardly and snuggled more comfortably into the back of the sofa — since now he could only listen to the actors, might as well be as comfortable as possible.

Just listening had a very lulling effect though, and he found himself drifting off. A loud shout jolted him up — had he fallen asleep?? Was that the screaming match, or a different line? He leaned rightward to see past Akihiko and figure out whether the actors were currently in the bar set. He had to lean quite far; even supporting himself on his fingertips, he had to unfold his legs to maintain balance.

The actors were in the bar set, but it seemed that had been an isolated shout. 

Overextended, Minato struggled a bit to get back up onto the sofa. He finally just pushed off the floor as hard as he could, landing successfully back in his seat, though in the process the toes of his left foot brushed against Akihiko's lower back.

Akihiko jumped at the touch, excessively so. It was practically a flinch. He clutched at his back and whirled around in his seat. 

"Sorry!" Minato whispered with an apologetic grimace. He pulled his knees all the way up to his chin in an effort to give Akihiko more space.

Akihiko visibly forced himself to stop rubbing the spot. "S'okay."

Minato was startled by the reaction. He was only wearing socks, and it had been an accident...frankly he was lucky to have not bumped Akihiko harder than he did, so what was the big deal? Still, he decided it wasn't worth asking questions, especially when the scene change could arrive any minute. "Kinda fell asleep, guess that wasn't the screaming match?"

"No, but I think it's coming. Those two are totally gonna have it out."

"Cool," said Minato, eagerly pulling his shoes back on. He wanted to actually watch that happen.

~o~o~o~o~o~

The screaming match lived up to its billing — Shunsuke's smirk was certainly justified. He was screaming, she was screaming, the other guy was screaming, right up until the end of the scene...when the stage plunged into sudden blackness. The previous blackouts hadn't felt so dark, probably because Minato hadn't been intently staring into the bright lights before. He kind of expected the actors to walk towards him, but they had apparently been advised to exit stage left, so as to be out of the crew's way.

The crew! Minato's body leaped into action before his brain even had a chance to feel foolish for standing around. By that point Akihiko was already maneuvering the counter off the stage. Minato was grateful, though unsurprised, that Akihiko had left the easy piece for him. Akihiko had already moved on to the sofa, so Minato dropped the bar table just offstage and hurried to grab the front armrest. He tried to remember Shunsuke's advice to be quiet before fast, so that his adrenaline didn't kick in too much and cause him to trip while walking backwards. The glowing tape worked brilliantly, and they were able to easily drop all the furniture into place and melt back into the wings.

Minato snagged the bar table again as the lights came back up and carried it further backstage, out of the way. He came back and stood next to Akihiko, waiting impatiently for the act to end. The moment the lights went out, he started forward to go around the curtain, only to come to a comically sudden stop when the spotlight came on, highlighting the female lead as she launched into a soliloquy.

"What?" he gasped. "They're not stopping between acts?"

Akihiko shrugged. "It's a weeknight. Finish sooner, go home sooner."

Minato slunk backwards, embarrassed he'd almost burst onto the stage. "C'mon, let's look for an exit door or something," he blustered. "We can go find Shunsuke-san in the booth, or at least watch things from out front."

Akihiko seemed doubtful, either at the possibility of finding a door or at the appropriateness of "abandoning" their post, but he followed readily enough. Minato wandered further backstage, squinting as the light steadily decreased. Lots of boxes, a rickety crate, some dusty locked cabinets, probably containing props from old productions...nothing remotely interesting.

Akihiko picked his way carefully along behind him. "I don't see one."

"Yeah, me neither," sighed Minato. "Guess that's why the actors only exit off the other side — over here you're trapped!"

He stumbled, literally, upon an old desk, tucked away in an especially dim corner. Sturdy as a rock, though probably about as comfortable as one, at least it would be a better seat than the floor.

He hoisted himself up. "Come on, have a seat."

Akihiko followed his lead, though not without question. "Why are we back here?"

"I dunno, I got tired of watching. You can go back if you want."

"No, that's okay."

Minato swung his legs and racked his brain for a topic of conversation. At least all the way back here they could speak in quiet voices, rather than harsh constrained whispers. But Akihiko seemed tense, and they had the entire act to kill...

He settled for self-deprecation. "Sorry I was slow on the uptake back there."

Akihiko shrugged off his apology. "You caught up. I think we did a good job, our first try and all."

Minato smiled. "I'm glad you think so. You were great with that counter thing — it looks awkward to carry without dragging it on the ground."

Akihiko shrugged again, seeming embarrassed at even such minor praise.

"And Saturday we'll do even better!" enthused Minato, the urge to fill the silence making him gush a little too much. "Though we need to make them give us something to _do_ during Act 2, or permission to leave, or _something_. 'Cause it's dreadfully boring back here, and we won't even be able to talk when there's an audience."

"It's not so bad," said Akihiko in a small voice.

Minato turned towards him, startled. He studied Akihiko's profile in the gloom, as the other boy continued to stare resolutely forward. Despite what he'd just said, Akihiko still seemed distressed.

"Good. Glad you're having...fun?" Minato put forth tentatively.

Akihiko didn't say anything.

Minato was at a loss over how to keep the conversation going — it seemed like it shouldn't be this hard. If they didn't talk he'd probably go insane from boredom before the act was over, but Akihiko was _not cooperating_. 

Frankly, his silence was suspicious. Minato raised an appraising eyebrow. "You sure you're okay? Nothing's...bothering you?"

"Nah." Akihiko's voice was convincingly bland, but his body language was getting twitchier and twitchier and he refused to look Minato in the eye; obviously he was covering up something. 

"You seem on edge, that's all."

"I'm fine," Akihiko ground out, with surprising fierceness.

Minato's stubborn protective streak flared. Akihiko was avoiding him, but he wasn't going to stand for that. Akihiko had always been a good senpai, and who did he have to confide in? Mitsuru? Even Akihiko found _her_ intimidating. Shinjiro? That was laughable; he'd scoff at anyone's feelings. That decided it — Minato had time to burn, and he was going to spend it being there for his senpai. 

"That's good," he attempted. "You're not upset _or_ bored. Got one up on me!" 

Silence reigned.

Minato tried to give a little laugh, most of it getting stuck in his throat on the way out. Alright, so his attempt at cheerfulness had been pretty transparent, but Akihiko wasn't giving him anything to work with. Unless he wanted to sit in silence for the rest of the act, he needed to try something drastic. 

Subtly, he slid his left hand along the edge of the desk, until his pinky finger rested against Akihiko's. Human contact usually made people feel better, right? Demonstrate he didn't have to be alone in this, whatever it was?

Akihiko immediately stiffened and froze.

That was a reaction at least. Positive or negative, it remained to be seen. Minato needed to get him talking again, and maybe then he'd relax. 

"It's kinda like Tartarus, isn't it?" Minato spoke in a light, conversational tone, as if nothing else was happening. "Lots of waiting poised for action, continually wondering when it's gonna happen — then one big frenzied rush, and it's over."

"What is??" asked Akihiko, sounding utterly confused.

"This," replied Minato with an expansive gesture using his free hand. "Being stage crew. Waiting for our one moment. Particularly when we don't know the play." He quirked half a smile.

Akihiko nodded weakly. "Yeah, I guess it kinda feels the same."

He looked even more strained than before. Minato took pity on him, pulling his hand back a couple of inches to create some breathing room. Glancing sideways without turning his head, he was pleased to note Akihiko's posture relax ever so slightly. Minato kept up the idle chatter as a cover-up.

"I'll talk to Shunsuke once the rehearsal's over, about what we should do after..." His sentence lapsed as Akihiko's hand slid back over to his.

Minato was thrilled. Akihiko was reaching out to him! "After...the scene change. Yeah," he finished lamely. Minato almost burst into laughter at himself, but he didn't want Akihiko to think he was being laughed at, not when he seemed to be opening up. To further reinforce his message, Minato moved his hand on top of Akihiko's, curling his fingers and squeezing reassuringly.

Akihiko stared at their hands, startlingly hard. He then peered at Minato's face in the dim light, searching for something. Minato tried to look open and approachable, in case he wanted to talk.

Akihiko moved his hand to the top and laced their fingers together. Minato was a bit surprised by this turn of events, but he was pleased to be getting any sort of positive reaction from Akihiko. He smiled at the other boy, who was still looking at him intently.

Without breaking eye contact, Akihiko slowly raised their clasped hands. It took most of the journey upward for Minato's innocent happiness to become confused; his eyebrows barely had a moment to knit together in consternation before his fingertip ended up in Akihiko's mouth. And the bottom fell out of his mind.

...Obviously the two of them had not been on the same silent train of thought.

Minato struggled to pull his vision back in line, blinking hard as his eyes shot past their goal and crossed into over-focus. Akihiko wasn't just kissing the tip of his ring finger, he was outright sucking on it.

Part of Minato's brain was idly suggesting he should be shocked, or even appalled, at this sudden turn of events, but the rest of him was fascinated. Perhaps more fascinated than it should rightly be.

Oh, that was his tongue. It felt less rough than expected, noted the same droll part of his brain. A different, but still impish, part of his brain kicked in that he should be grateful their hands were still clasped together, because that prevented Akihiko from taking the entire finger into his mouth. Minato did not deign to respond.

Akihiko's head slid forward ever so slightly, teeth grasping at the knuckle to immobilize it. Minato jumped — not at the bite, but out of fear that Akihiko had somehow heard him and done that on purpose. Unconsciously verbalizing his _normal_ internal monologue would be bad enough, but if right now parts of him were having a conversation with each other OUT LOUD? It would be too much to bear.

Akihiko's tongue laved around the trapped finger. Minato's thoughts were increasingly scattered, while the commentary from his mind got even drier. "Are you even a little alarmed by this?" it queried. "Isn't it a bit unexpected?" A softly groaned _ungh_ was all the response he could muster.

Akihiko stopped mid-suckle to flash an appreciatively wicked grin at him. Minato's eyes widened — that last bit _had_ been out loud.

Akihiko freed himself to reply by dragging the finger out of his mouth, sinfully slowly, rolling over his lower lip on the way out. Minato gave a long unconscious inhale in sync with the motion, the sudden rush of oxygen drowning out the voices in his head.

As soon as they were free, Akihiko's lips drifted back into the lazy grin. Minato stared at them, forgetting to exhale again.

"Glad to hear you liked it." Like the smile, his words now drawled loose and flowing, transformed from their earlier uneasy tightness.

Startled out of his reverie, Minato flushed a brilliant red. "No! I don't, I didn't–" he protested, flustered. "...I don't even know what 'it' is!" 

Akihiko shrugged and started to raise their hands once more.

"No, wait, I didn't mean you had to show me!"

Akihiko paused with one eyebrow raised.

Minato blushed again. He tried to take his hand back, but Akihiko's grip tightened like steel. 

He tried again, pulling harder, but his arm was twisted and he didn't have good leverage.

Akihiko shook his head ever so faintly and resumed lifting his hand. "Don't ask for something you don't mean," he purred darkly, as their fist cut his mouth off from view.

Minato's still-wet finger slid easily back into his mouth. Akihiko sucked on it expertly, maintaining suction against the knuckle while stroking the underside with his tongue. Minato's protest dissolved into a breathy exhale, the fight draining out of his shoulders. Unable to smile without releasing his lips, Akihiko hummed in satisfaction instead, and began using their joined hands to slide Minato's finger in and out of his mouth. 

Minato's eyes drifted shut, unable to keep watching. After his eyes closed, Akihiko pumped the finger a few more times, using his lips to greedily pull it back in each time. Then he let go with a wet pop and a small, pleased sigh.

Minato nervously cracked an eye open to keep tabs on him. 

The look on Akihiko's face was both satiated and dangerous.

"Now," he said, his voice deceptively light, "tell me you liked it."

"What??" The startled word popped out of Minato faster than his eyes could fly open.

Akihiko leaned in close, his weight shifting slightly painfully onto the sides of their still-clasped hands.

" _Tell me,_ " he repeated, an edge gathering behind his words, "that you liked it." He sat back, the calm demeanor sliding back into place.

Minato was utterly lost. "Why would I do that?" he finally asked in confusion.

"Because it's true, and I'd like to hear you acknowledge that." 

Minato opened his mouth to object, but he didn't get the chance. 

Akihiko's voice dropped lower, a silvery thread of warning twining through it. "And because I told you to." 

Minato's breath caught unexpectedly, mouth frozen where it was. His eyes snapped to Akihiko, who suddenly seemed to glow in the gloom. That voice was like a current applied to his spine, short-circuiting his thoughts, each new attempt he made frying out in a dramatic shower of sparks.

As the silence lengthened without a response, a molasses-slow grin spread across the pale face. "I thought so," Akihiko murmured, mostly to himself, though his gaze never left Minato's.

Minato shook himself free of his daze. What was going _on_ here? His normally even-tempered senpai had gone from agitated to sultry to domineering in the course of minutes, while he sat here stupefied instead of calling him out.

He yanked his hand free, succeeding this time. "You thought _what_?" he demanded crossly.

Akihiko looked amused rather than annoyed at the reaction, which only irritated Minato further. "Oh, just testing a theory," he replied breezily.

Minato's ears burned. Akihiko was toying with him now. Maybe this entire thing was a setup, some bizarre prank to embarrass him.

Akihiko hopped off the desk and patted him on the cheek in a patronizing fashion. "Don't worry," he added, "you're cute when you're mad." 

Minato glared back furiously, resisting the urge to turn and bite the edge of Akihiko's hand in retribution.

The pat morphed into a grip, his thumb pressing sharply against Minato's cheekbone. "But next time? I may not be so tolerant." He shot Minato a significant look before turning and walking away.

Minato made an exasperated noise. "Where are you _going_?" he exclaimed, frustrated at how little sense the entire exchange had made.

"...And there IS no 'next time'!" he called towards the retreating form.

Akihiko stopped. He appeared to be considering something, though Minato couldn't really tell while he was facing away. 

A moment later, the stage lights cut out, plunging their dim corner into complete blackness. 

A rich chuckle floated through the darkness. With senses heightened by the blanketing dark, this time he couldn't suppress his response to that note in Akihiko's voice. He shivered uncontrollably. That seductive, whispering, _compelling_ undertone was so alarmingly hard to ignore.

"We'll see about that." 

The floodlights came up all at once, accompanied by the sound of several hands clapping. Minato squinted in the sudden brightness, but somehow Akihiko was already gazing steadily at him. 

How had he known exactly where...it's not like Akihiko could _see_ in the dark, right? There was no way he'd witnessed Minato's reaction.

Akihiko's lips twitched over and back, dancing in the ground between solemnity and smirk.

How did he know _everything_?! Minato was suddenly incredibly tired. He didn't even care to check whether he was exclaiming internally or externally. It didn't matter — Akihiko was clearly going to catch it either way. 

He shoved off the edge of the desk. "I'm finding Shunsuke-san," he declared, and strode past Akihiko without looking to see if he followed.

~o~o~o~o~o~

By the time they skirted the curtain and jumped off the stage, the director and cast were already clustered stage left, dissecting their performance. They found Shunsuke at the back of the auditorium.

"Hey, great job you two!" he called, waving them over. "This is Namiko-san, our spotlight-ist extraordinaire." The slight, short-haired girl at his side returned their greetings with a shy bow.

"So, any problems?"

"Nope," said Akihiko, preempting any reply from Minato. "Did it look good from your end?"

"Yeah, you guys are naturals. In dark clothes you'll be practically invisible."

"So..." began Minato, leadingly. Akihiko shot him a look. Minato almost glared back, but Akihiko appeared to be behaving in public, and he didn't want to jeopardize that. "Is there anything else you need us to do? Like during Act 2?"

Shunsuke brayed a laugh. "Got bored did you? Sorry, I need you to hang out and be my free hands backstage, in case anything goes wrong. That's what the headset will be for." He tapped the one he still wore around his neck. "I'll call you on it if there's an emergency."

"Alright," sighed Minato. He smiled with good nature at being seen through so easily — he didn't want Shunsuke to think he was complaining. But still, the answer was disappointing, and the polite front a little hard to maintain. After the bizarre turn tonight had taken...well, if Saturday wasn't boring, it would only be because of the _incredible awkwardness_.

Shunsuke gestured up to the stage with his chin. "We can't lock up until they're done blathering, but there's no reason you two can't get going."

"Thanks," said Akihiko. "Mitsuru suggested we get here at 6:00 on Saturday?"

"That should be fine — the doors open at 6:30. See ya then!"

Minato nodded briefly and headed for the door. He considered shoving through and letting the heavy thing swing shut on its own — dropping it in a certain person's face would be pretty satisfying right now — but at the last moment he held onto the edge of it and waited for Akihiko to follow him through. 

"Goodnight," called Namiko quietly. Akihiko fixed her with a dazzling smile on his way out.

Already aggrieved, Minato saw that as the last straw. As soon as the door was safely closed, he punched Akihiko in the shoulder, hard. "What the hell was that for?"

Akihiko rubbed the spot and looked offended. "I should ask you the same question!"

"You ignore the girls that follow you around, and now you're making eyes at that poor shy thing?!" The unstated rest of that sentence, the accusations he should have been making instead, echoed loudly in Minato's head.

"That? That was coincidence. I'm just happy." Akihiko aimed a very un-innocent grin at him.

Minato flushed red and sped up, refusing to speak again for the entire trip home.


	2. Chapter 2

Mitsuru never came home from school on Friday afternoon, staying straight through the evening to work on festival setup. Minato could still take the team to Tartarus as long as one of the senpais was around, and technically there were two... They just happened to be the two people he was actively avoiding. 

In the dorm lobby that morning, Shinjiro had smirked at him knowingly, and Minato just about died. It took half the trip to school to convince himself that it was one of his _normal_ expressions and didn't mean anything. And Akihiko... Tomorrow night would be bad enough; he couldn't survive another evening of shrewd glances and twitching half-smiles from the elder boy. 

It was dangerous to go into Tartarus distracted, when shadows were waiting around every corner to get the jump on him. At least, that's what he told himself as he climbed to the third floor looking for Fuuka.

She opened her door wild-eyed, fretting over how she'd ever finish the place cards for the Art Club's ceramics display by the next morning, when she hadn't even figured out how to run the card stock through her printer. She looked nearly ready to kiss him in gratitude for the evening off. That settled it — no Fuuka, no Tartarus. Neat, easy, and completely justifiable.

Perfect except for leaving him with nothing to do all night. Going out meant passing through Port Island Station, where Shinjiro usually loitered in the evenings. And he highly doubted the boxing team was running a booth at the Cultural Festival, so he'd probably run into Akihiko if he hung out somewhere in the dorm. Minato stopped to pound on a door on his way past — crap, Junpei wasn't home either.

He sighed at his predicament as he latched the door behind him and drifted over to his desk. He'd run out of options... He was in for an exciting evening sequestered in his room, alone with his thoughts — and a dangerous lack of distractions. Plenty of time to rerun each moment of the night before and wonder how making Akihiko open up had so quickly turned into... _that_. 

Minato dropped heavily into his chair. There had to be a way out of going back there Saturday night, even if it meant incurring the wrath of Mitsuru. Maybe he could trade jobs with someone. Except...who? Junpei could never sit quietly backstage, Yukari would be late, Fuuka wasn't built for moving furniture...and no way could he ask Shinjiro-senpai to sub in. Shinjiro would demand an explanation in exchange for the favor — and what could Minato say in his own defense? He could already hear the gruff chortle: "What, you're afraid of _Aki_?"

Minato groaned and fell forward to bury his head in his arms. Theoretical-Shinjiro was right. All the more reason to not go talk to him — to not be openly mocked in person — but Minato was afraid, absolutely. More afraid than he was of fighting shadows, or Mitsuru's executions, or even Fuuka's cooking. He _was_ afraid of whatever outrageous, unpredictable thing Akihiko would do next...but he was mostly afraid of himself, and the very real possibility he'd go along with it.

Having loosened the lid on his honesty, the full day's worth of simmering unease dropped onto him at once. What had happened on Thursday was strange and weird and completely insane. Minato had spent much of the past year reaching out to people, and not one of them had reciprocated by... _sucking_ on him. He _should_ be freaked out. He knew _as it was happening_ that he should be freaked out. And he was... Just, an excited kind of freaked out. 

Seriously, what was _wrong_ with him.

With either of them.

Because he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since last night. He'd been shoving it down all day, but the barest hint of candor and his brain broke free of its constraints, running wild in every direction at once, spinning theories and asking all the forbidden questions. 

Except none of those theories made any _sense_. What was Akihiko's agenda here? Why had he been so awkward and distant at first, if he was already planning to...make some weird _claim_ on him? Maybe it hadn't been planned? It _seemed_ pretty planned... Nobody was that smooth on command. 

Ugh, he'd just called him smooth. It wasn't supposed to be a compliment! But Akihiko _had_ been strikingly confident. Confidently smirking as he directed Minato's finger into his mouth. Confidently glaring at him for not parroting lines on command. Bestowing unwanted forgiveness, with a demeaning, backhanded compliment. Laughing jauntily as he confidently walked away. Minato was suddenly back in the moment, sitting on the desk confused and furious — watching Akihiko leave without having granted him a moment to speak, no recourse except tossing barbs at his retreating back. He was so pissed off by the dismissive behavior, he could almost overlook being turned on. 

Minato slammed a fist down next to his head. He just wanted to figure out what was going on here. Except, Akihiko had been impossible to gauge even before all this — a mismatched set of puzzle pieces without the final image to explain how they fit together. The living legend at school, however reluctantly...weirdly dad-like around the dorm, scheduling his workouts and chiding them all to sleep more...a daredevil on the battlefield, fearless, audacious, eyes glinting with barely restrained passion as he waited for the opportunity to uppercut a shadow into oblivion.

His mind caught on that last one, elaborating the image as if to prove a point. The walls of the Tziah block filled in behind him, Akihiko's uniform stark against the gaudy golden tapestries. He was readying for the next fight, forearms lightly clenched, scanning the distance for approaching enemies. His gaze swept across the hallway, angling in Minato's direction...that predatory glitter in his eyes alighting on _him_ rather than the next inky oily blob headed their way.

A chill ran through him. Minato shivered in reality to avoid doing so in his vision.

Okay, so maybe this new deviancy of Akihiko's _wasn't_ entirely out of character. That didn't mean he understood it, or knew how to respond. Because Akihiko had clearly been testing him the night before. Minato didn't know why, or whether he'd passed or failed — only that Akihiko seemed to have no intention of stopping. 

...And that maybe Minato didn't want him to. The daredevil had followed him home, and he was burning with curiosity to see what would happen next. 

Minato groaned again, face still buried against his desk. It seemed inevitable now — he was going to walk right back in there on Saturday, damn the consequences, because otherwise he'd never _know_. He was displaying a complete disregard for his own best interests and well-being...though given his current mental state, there wasn't much left to risk. Staying here to be tortured by his own brain wouldn't be any better. 

He put a stop to that defeatist train of thought, redirecting himself back to the anger. "NO," he pronounced, sitting up and slapping both hands onto the desk in front of him. This wasn't supposed to be intriguing; it was disturbing and problematic and completely bad for the team, and he shouldn't be encouraging any of it. His _finger_ had involuntarily been in Akihiko's _mouth_. Akihiko had patted him like a dog! It didn't matter what that voice or those smirking eyes could do to him, he needed to stand up to this. Go into Saturday with a plan — immediately accost Akihiko and establish some appropriate boundaries for the evening, _before_ Akihiko could employ weird mesmerizing powers against him.

Minato took a deep reassuring breath and nodded firmly in agreement with his plan. 

Straightening up resolutely, he pulled out his chemistry textbook and turned his audio player to max volume — it was time for some hard-core distractions. At one point in time, the Reaper had been the only thing he feared more than chemistry. Now that a new terror had shown its face, it was a great time to get that lab report done.

~o~o~o~o~o~

A front passed through overnight, and Saturday dawned crisp and remarkably clear of the humidity that had plagued the city all week. Hanging out his window in the early morning to check the weather, Minato breathed in deeply and vowed to enjoy his day without stressing out over the evening to come. He had plans to go to the festival with Kenji, who should help keep things nice and low-key, and then the two of them and Junpei were hitting the Archery Club's cafe for dinner. Yukari had expressly forbidden all of SEES to visit the cafe, but really, who could pass that up? Minato was also using it as Junpei-bait: food plus maid's uniforms plus Yukari blushing furiously (emphasis on the furious)? Junpei would definitely show up, and by the end, he'd probably be so weak from laughter that Minato and Kenji could just drag him to the auditorium and prop him up as a program-holding doorstop.

~o~o~o~o~o~

At 6:15, Minato found himself stacking cans of Cielo Mist on the refreshments table as Aigis unwrapped the platters of snack food.

On his way back from changing clothes in the restroom, he'd glimpsed Junpei through the auditorium doors, merrily tearing into the boxes of programs. Minato was pleased his plan had succeeded in putting Junpei in a good mood — though the opportunity to wield his pocket knife was probably contributing too. Fuuka was loitering several feet away, smartly waiting for all weapons to be concealed before approaching, but there was still no Akihiko.

Minato's stomach lurched in nervous anticipation. He quickly pulled his hand back before it twitched and sent the entire pyramid of cans tumbling. He told himself it was pre-show jitters. Perfectly reasonable to be nervous — something could go wrong, the curtain getting stuck or a piece of the set breaking. That's all he was worried about. The only reason he was even _thinking_ about Akihiko was that he was late. Clearly.

Minato sighed under his breath. He didn't like lying to himself. He should at least admit he was anxious about having to confront Akihiko, not about the show.

Suddenly Akihiko appeared far down the hallway, walking swiftly. Between all the black, his silver hair, and his smooth, gliding gait, he looked like a specter. The world's...sleekest specter. Minato groaned inwardly; he wasn't supposed to be noticing these things. He glanced again anyways. Wait — the world's sleekest specter was wearing... cargo pants?

Number one, how could anyone look sleek in cargo pants? Number two, why did Akihiko even own cargo pants? They were totally at odds with the rest of his playboy-chic wardrobe. Cargo pants were for people who went hiking, or repaired things.

Minato wanted to smack himself on the head. Why was he asking these questions? Akihiko obviously owned the pants, or borrowed them from somebody, and they were obscenely, unfairly flattering, but that wasn't the point. And the source of the pants wasn't the point either, though it was extra unfair if they were borrowed and still fit so well. Cargo pants. Svelte. Definitely unfair.

"The pants are irrelevant!" he yelled in his head, trying to regain control of his suddenly overbearing and chatty thoughts. Minato took a deep breath and glanced around carefully, wondering if anyone else had noticed the extended internal diatribe he'd just held. Aigis was pointedly looking down, adjusting the price cards, her expression even more neutral than usual. Which probably meant she had noticed something, but at least she was pretending to not have.

Akihiko pulled up at the table, breathing just the slightest bit heavily. "I'm really sorry I'm late," he began. "Couldn't get into the locker room, had to track down keys to get my clothes out."

Minato examined his face. He'd been ready for another round of teasing and harassment from Akihiko, so he was surprised that the returning gaze looked honestly apologetic, with no hint of mockery. The knot in his midsection loosened ever so slightly.

He was inhaling to reply when Shunsuke burst out of the auditorium, in his typical blustery fashion. "Good, you're here. Come on."

Minato closed his mouth, and shrugged. "Are you going to be okay, Aigis?" he asked courteously before turning away.

"Yes, thank you. Yukari-san should arrive to assist me."

Minato smiled politely at her and followed Shunsuke back to the booth.

~o~o~o~o~o~

"I love show night," gushed Shunsuke, digging through the mass of cords behind the soundboard. "It's just _electric_."

Out of sight on the other side of the board, Minato shook his head, amused by Shunsuke's enthusiasm and the fact that he was already wearing his humongous headset.

"You really enjoy this, huh?" asked Akihiko.

Shunsuke emerged from the pile, shaking an insistent finger at them. "You just wait. The audience isn't here yet. The atmosphere will change — you'll feel it."

"Okay, okay," conceded Akihiko, laughing and raising both hands in defeat. "I believe you."

"Good, because I'm right. Okay, I've got your headset — which one of you is gonna wear it?"

"You're the one who lives in headphones," said Akihiko, pointing.

Minato snorted, but agreed. "Yeah sure, I'll wear it."

"I'll have you remember that the headset is a privilege, not an obligation!" barked Shunsuke, like a highly articulate drill sergeant, except that his eyes twinkled irrepressibly.

Minato straightened up. "An honor I willingly assume, then!" he cried in a stirring voice.

Shunsuke beamed at him, before pulling himself back to the subject at hand and launching into one of his trademark high-speed lectures. "Here's the headphones and the transmitter," he said, plopping each piece down on the table. "It'll receive automatically; just keep it on channel 5. Flip the mouthpiece down and push this button to talk. And make sure to clip the transmitter someplace where you won't lean on the button, or it'll pop in my ears all the time."

Minato nodded, attaching the transmitter to his front pocket and hanging the headphones over his forearm. Luckily they weren't the big, padded, over-the-ear style that Shunsuke wore, because he was too used to his own lightweight set to feel comfortable in something like that. This pair had a small foam earpiece, and only on one side even.

"I don't anticipate having to use this. None of us should be speaking unless we have to. And nothing's gonna go wrong!" declared Shunsuke.

"Well let's hope so," replied Akihiko, decisively.

Everyone was so oddly cheerful all of a sudden, Minato marveled, looking between the other two boys. Maybe Shunsuke was right about show night being magical. Maybe this would actually be fun...and maybe things wouldn't be weird with Akihiko, and Thursday won't have ever happened. That formerly fantastical idea suddenly seemed a lot more possible.

"Let's get you backstage," said Shunsuke, leading them back out of the booth. "I'll show you where the actual stage door is."

The other two headed off, but Minato stopped for a quick moment to look around the empty auditorium before the doors were opened. Either Shunsuke was really that infectious, or he was starting to feel it. Tremors of excitement curled in his stomach instead of trepidation. He felt an almost buoyant hopefulness lifting him up.

"Hey!" hissed Junpei's head, poking disembodied through the main doors. "Get outta here, it's 6:30!"

Minato laughed gaily, shocking the heck out of Junpei, and hurried for the door.

"What happened to you??" demanded Junpei as he got closer.

"Nothing." Minato smiled widely. "This is just more fun than we thought it would be. _Admit_ it," he said, stabbing Junpei in the chest with his finger as he spun by.

"Yeah, whatever, dude," came the good-natured reply, in unspoken agreement. "Just get out of my auditorium already. I gotta job to do."

~o~o~o~o~o~

Minato's steps slowed as he hit the end of the hallway. There were far too many doors back here... He stuck his head through a partially open one, which turned out to be the makeup room. He sketched an apologetic bow and backed out quickly.

"Hey!" called Shunsuke, coming out of a door Minato had already passed. "Thought we'd lost you!" he exclaimed. 

Minato chuckled. "Actually I lost myself."

"Well, I'm glad you're found. So...here's the stage door." Shunsuke gestured at the one in his hand. "We cleared off the living room set already, but the bar set still needs to come out." Minato trotted off obediently. 

"I'll call you when I get back to the booth, to test the radio. So put those headphones on already!" called Shunsuke, ducking back through the door.

"Okay!" 

Minato caught up with Akihiko as he was wrestling the bar onto the stage. Helping to gently place the piece down, he then leaned on it with both elbows and confided, "He might be right, you know."

"Hmmm?"

"It _is_ kind of exciting. I can feel the presence of the audience..."

He continued in a rush, babbling slightly. "I mean, yeah we had to be quiet before, out of politeness to the actors. But they know we're here. All those people out there?" He gestured towards the curtain, his voice dropping in awe. "They're not even supposed to realize we exist!"

Akihiko smiled indulgently.

Minato knew he was acting a little silly, but Shunsuke had rubbed off on him, and he was determined to rub off on Akihiko. 

Shunsuke! Minato fumbled to put on the headset.

"Minato-san, CAN YOU HEAR ME."

"Yes, sorry!" he yelped. "I wasn't wearing the headset yet."

"Good." Shunsuke sighed in relief, which blew a loud rushing noise down the line. "I was afraid it was broken."

"No, no, my fault. I can hear you loud and clear."

"Me too. It's already crowded out here, which is great. We'll be starting in a little bit. So...break a leg out there."

"You too! ...Smash a light bulb perhaps?"

Shunsuke cackled. "That's a good one; I'll have to remember that. Signing off!"

While he was talking, Akihiko had finished adjusting the set and exited the stage. Minato squinted as he headed off into the darkness.

"He says we'll be starting in–" Minato stopped dead before he toppled over the back of the sofa, which had sprung suddenly into his path. In fact, none of the furniture was in the same position as before. The sofa was diagonal, now facing the side wall as much as the audience, its back towards the stage.

"Why's the sofa...?"

"Oh, just so I could pull the armchair forward," said Akihiko breezily. Angling the sofa did free up a lot more room, so the chair didn't have to be crammed in the corner anymore. "Since no one comes over here, why not spread out?" He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms behind his head.

"Good point," agreed Minato, taking a seat on the couch. He leaned backwards and tried to gauge sightlines by tilting his head to different angles. "Are you sure we're hidden enough here?"

"Yeah. See where the floorboards change direction? The main curtain doesn't open any farther than that."

"Oh, good," said Minato, comforted. "I just want everything to go smoothly!" Akihiko tried not to chuckle at the eager half-bounce he gave.

Minato noticed and laughed outright at himself. "All right, I'll tone it down. I'm just excited, that's all."

They spent several minutes in companionable silence, listening to the noises of the crowd. The stage lights cut out abruptly, followed a moment later by a diminishing swell of sound.

"House lights must have gone out," whispered Akihiko.

"Yeah, here we go!" said Minato, trying to be quiet with his glee. He spun around in his seat, pressing excitedly against the back of the sofa in order to watch the performance.


	3. Chapter 3

Minato spent much of Act 1 in that position, turned on his hip, legs curled up on the seat. He found the play to be much more engrossing this time around. The presence of an audience made everything feel more vital, as if by being tuned into the performance, by watching over it, he was helping to make it better somehow. And he definitely found himself rooting for the main character, an office lady trying to change her life and prove herself to the people around her.

Minato laid his left arm along the sofa back and rested his chin on it. From behind him he heard faint scraping noises. He glanced back, but it was just Akihiko dragging the armchair forward, to use the other end of the sofa as a footrest. Minato tossed a momentary smile over his shoulder without pulling his attention away from the actors. 

Turning forward again, he realized how stiff the awkward position had made him. He rose up onto his knees and stretched widely to restore circulation. Leaning his body against the back of the sofa, he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck.

A moment passed before he realized what he’d done. "Oh wait!" he breathed, looking back. "I’m blocking your view!"

Akihiko shrugged agreeably and got up off his chair to kneel on the sofa as well.

Minato bowed his head in apology. "Can see better down here," he whispered, scooting down to the armrest to make more room.

"Thanks." Akihiko nodded seriously, following him most of the way down. "Much better!"

Minato nodded and turned his attention back to the stage. The scene in progress was particularly absorbing, he had missed it on Thursday night.

A minute or two later, Akihiko’s fingers brushed against his arm, right above the elbow. Minato twitched, ticklish, but didn’t move or say anything; he wanted to hear what was happening.

Another minute later, it happened again — but not as a casual, accidental bump. The back of an index finger stroked along his arm, lingering over the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow.

Minato gasped softly in confusion, his head spinning to look at Akihiko. The older boy was smirking unambiguously. His fingers grasped Minato's upper arm, thumb continuing to stroke along his bicep.

Minato _felt_ his expression fall, roundly open mouth becoming a grimace of dismay. His head spun quickly in the other direction, away from that grin — not that there was any room for him to escape, pinned as he was against the sofa arm. 

Staring hard at the floor off to the right, Minato berated himself for being caught off guard. He needed to convince Akihiko (and himself) that he wasn't interested — which meant keeping a safe distance, not falling into his trap! Things _had_ been going too smoothly...he shouldn’t have believed Akihiko would have a sudden change of heart.

Minato tensed as he felt Akihiko lean over him, warm breath curling against his exposed left ear. "I know you liked it on Thursday, and I know you like it now," Akihiko breathed in a low voice. "We’ll just see how long it takes you to accept that."

Minato shook his head in vehement denial, squeezing his eyes shut as if that could block his hearing too. How had he let himself end up in this position again?? Despite his best efforts to fight it off, his body was already responding. 

"All right," shrugged Akihiko. "You drag this out as long as you need to. But you should stop making that face, in case one of the actors looks over here."

Being molested by Akihiko was bad enough, possibly wanting to be molested by Akihiko was a new and scary feeling he was still trying to quash, but most of all, Minato didn’t want be to SEEN at it. He raised his head again and schooled his features into a neutral expression, focusing on maintaining a calm exterior despite the tumult inside.

"Good boy," Akihiko murmured, mouth still so close to Minato's ear that he nearly shuddered. If he kept doing that, looking tranquil was going to be impossible.

To Minato's immense relief, Akihiko leaned back, returning to an upright position to lend a fuller façade of propriety to the proceedings. He let go of Minato’s arm in the process, but Minato had only an instant to relax before the hand reappeared on his ass.

He aimed pleading eyes at Akihiko. The smoldering gaze he received in return was of little comfort. 

"Eyes forward," recommended Akihiko, gesturing towards the stage with his head.

Minato gave the tiniest whimper of protest, but complied. He stared out at the stage, towards the actors who'd so recently captivated him, trying to tune in his hearing and focus his distance vision. Turn all his attention out _there_ , and forget Akihiko was even here.

Which would be much easier if Akihiko’s fingers weren’t so damn talented. And strong. They were currently massaging the uppermost part of his leg, finding tense muscles he hadn’t even known existed.

"Just think what they’re capable of when _not_ trying to hide in plain sight," came the husky whisper again in his ear.

Minato swallowed an undignified noise, barely noticing that Akihiko had read his mind again, and unconsciously rolled his hips against the sofa back.

In a flash Akihiko’s strong forearm was across his backside, pinning him forward and pushing him farther into the cushion.

"Let me help with that," he murmured silkily. With alternating pressure, he forced Minato to grind against the sofa. Unable to squirm free, Minato surrendered and just tried to hold his shoulders still. And not let his mouth go slack. Or his eyes cross.

"Did I help?" queried Akihiko, his voice full of innocence. "Here, let me check." His hand snaked in between Minato’s body and the sofa back.

Minato groaned softly. He knew what Akihiko was about to find. Unless he planned to haul off and punch the boy (a stupid idea and a particularly pitiful distraction), there would be no more denying anything.

Luckily for him, Akihiko had a sudden burst of clemency and stopped with the demeaning teasing. Instead he grabbed Minato by the shirt and fell backwards, landing on his back on the sofa with Minato on top.

Minato grunted, having had the air knocked out of him by Akihiko’s surprisingly pointy rib cage. He hurriedly pulled his elbows up underneath him so he could lean on them and recover some semblance of control over his position. "Hey!" he hissed. "I didn't agree to THIS!"

Akihiko raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

"...And that was completely not subtle!" Minato sulked. He was sure he looked ridiculous, sprawled gracelessly on his stomach, which did nothing to improve his mood.

Akihiko snorted. Curling one arm behind Minato’s head and the other around his waist, he pulled the other boy upward along his body. Holding eye contact at close distance, he stared down another protestation halfway out of Minato’s mouth. Minato closed his mouth with a snap.

"Good choice," murmured Akihiko. His eyelashes fluttered as he leaned forward, lips lightly brushing against Minato's. Minato resisted, holding his body stiffly away from the other boy. Undeterred, Akihiko held him tighter and ran a hand soothingly up and down his back. 

When Minato failed to relax, Akihiko sighed through his nose and broke off the kiss. "Why are you fighting me?"

Minato shifted uncomfortably, struggling against gravity in an attempt to pull his hips farther away.

"That’s it?" Akihiko lifted his chin with the back of a finger. "If you were paying any attention, you’d notice you’re not the only one, so I suggest you get the hell over it and kiss me already."

Minato froze and stared back, wide-eyed, his squirming completely forgotten. THAT was his intention? Not mockery but...seduction, or something?

Mostly in shock, he didn’t fight off Akihiko’s kiss this time; he even relaxed his posture, despite that it left him draped over Akihiko’s body. In the face of that acquiescence, Akihiko didn’t waste time in deepening the kiss. Just as his tongue was smoothing over Minato’s lips, gently coaxing them open...the screaming started.

Startled, Minato squeaked and tumbled sideways, landing on the floor with a thump.

Akihiko nearly whined in frustration. Minato stared up at him from the floor, panting slightly and still in awe of what was happening. Akihiko rose up onto one elbow, a hungry expression crossing his face, as if he was considering following Minato down there.

Other voices joined the chorus of screaming, a reminder of their coming responsibilities. Akihiko shook his head regretfully and stood up, straightening his clothes and offering a hand to Minato.

Minato only wobbled slightly as he rose, a grand accomplishment in his estimation.

"This isn’t over," intoned Akihiko, silhouetted in the light from the stage, his eyes blazing. Behind him the screaming crescendoed and the stage plunged into darkness.

Minato swung into action, heart racing from more than one kind of adrenaline.

~o~o~o~o~o~

The instant Minato had fully exited the stage from the scene change, Akihiko seized him by the arm and hauled him towards the desk in the back corner. He flung Minato up against a bare patch of wall, pinning him there with his body.

"There's ten minutes left in the act," he declared, voice low and gruff. "Should I finish this?"

Minato felt breathless and dizzy. His head tipped back against the wall, eyes closing, as he tried to regain control of his breathing. He could feel Akihiko's erection pressed against his hipbone. He finally pulled his eyes open, dilated in the low light and drugged with arousal, and whispered, "Yes."

Akihiko grinned wolfishly and dove forward into a devouring kiss. Minato clung onto his shoulders as Akihiko's hands drifted lower, trapping his hips to grind against them. Minato shocked himself by how frantically he ground back, low moans flowing unchecked into Akihiko's mouth.

With one last sucking kiss, Akihiko finally released his mouth. While Minato was panting heavily, Akihiko apparently didn't have the same problem, departing on a trip across his face, scattering kisses across his cheekbone. Obviously not wanting to move his hands from their current home, he nosed Minato's hair out of the way, trying to get at his ear. Minato thought he was going to say something, eyes almost rolling backwards with the thought of what it might be, but Akihiko was always full of surprises.

He didn’t say a word, just _licked_ the sensitive skin behind the ear. Minato jolted in reaction, his knees buckling. He threw his arms tightly around Akihiko’s waist to stay upright. Akihiko made a happy noise deep in his throat and cocked his right hip to wedge Minato harder against the wall. Minato could feel the pleased smile that curled his lips, though it didn’t last long, as his tongue snaked out again to trace the seam where ear met skull, alternating with broad teasing strokes across the back of the ear itself. Minato whimpered quietly at the continued assault, hands clenching and releasing on Akihiko’s lower back.

His latest whimper choked off abruptly when Akihiko’s left hand drifted forward from his hip to the zipper of his pants. Except the hand didn’t do anything, just rested there lightly, maddeningly, as Akihiko continued to nip and suckle at the side of his neck.

Minato’s body was confused. The lips on his neck made him feel floppy and drunk, like he wanted to sway, to roll his head and swing his hips to some inaudible song. But his blood was still racing from before, pounding and demanding, and Akihiko’s hip was merely propping him up now, leaving him with nothing more than a teasing hand to thrust against. He tried to press forward into the hand, but it just travelled with him, never exerting any more pressure.

"Akihiko–" he breathed, half in a whine.

The silver head rose from his neck. "Yeah?" Akihiko’s eyes glittered, excited and greedy.

"Please," whispered Minato.

He should have been embarrassed about the begging, or aroused by the way it caused Akihiko’s cock to jump against his thigh, but he was too turned on to feel anything but relief that Akihiko was finally undoing his pants and touching him.

He sighed luxuriously, his body relaxing against the wall even as parts of it tightened further. He kept trying to open his eyes, but the sensation of Akihiko’s gentle grip sliding him out of his boxers was too incredible to waste any attention on vision. Akihiko pulled his hip away, forcing Minato to shift and support his weight on his own feet again. Minato’s curiosity finally got the better of him.

"Oh god," he moaned. He’d cracked his eyes open just in time to watch Akihiko curling a hand around both of their erections at once. 

Akihiko noticed his spellbound audience and turned up the showmanship. He repositioned his hips with a leisurely shove, bucking directly against Minato and sending an uncontrollable shiver running up his body. Minato slowly looked up at the face looming above him, the knowing grin floating right at his eye level. 

The grin grew wider as Minato twitched in his hand. Akihiko stretched and flexed his fingers, clasping their lengths together and drawing upward in one long stroke. Minato whimpered quietly, his eyes falling shut on the image of that grin growing wide enough to split Akihiko’s face.

Akihiko perfected his grip through another couple strokes, steadily increasing in speed. He braced his right forearm on the wall and set a brutal rhythm with his left. 

"We don’t have much time," he rasped. It wasn’t an apology.

"I don’t, ah...think that will be a problem," gasped Minato, digging his fingers into the wall as he tried not to writhe.

He was right. It was over so fast he had to wonder whether they’d really put the ten minutes to best use. No, scratch that, he thought — this was definitely the best use, just maybe they could have used _more_ minutes. He tried not to laugh aloud...apparently the orgasm had made him giddy.

Akihiko pushed himself upright, from where his head had collapsed onto Minato’s shoulder during climax. With a flourish, he produced a small packet from somewhere behind him.

Minato gaped. " _That’s_ what you’re using the pockets for?"

Akihiko grinned. "It pays to be prepared." He’d already ripped the foil open and was using the wet wipe to clean off his doubly messy hand. From a different pocket, his clean hand produced a small baggie to hold the used cloths.

Minato quirked an eyebrow. The obvious question hung in the air between them.

Akihiko chuckled. "You’ll just have to wait to find out what’s in the other pockets." He began cleaning Minato with a second wipe, the cool brush of it against oversensitized flesh providing a neat distraction as intended.

"Minato-san!"

Minato started. He fumbled for the transmitter, which was hidden under the flap of his still-open pants. Akihiko continued with his task, cool and unflappable, neither helping nor hindering Minato’s search. Minato would’ve shot him a dirty look if he wasn’t already fully occupied flailing about.

"Minato-san?"

Minato yanked the mouthpiece down and jammed his thumb at the button. "Yeah, I’m here! Sorry, couldn’t find the button."

Shunsuke’s voice crackled down the line. "Oh hey, just checking in. One successful act down!"

"Glad to hear it," said Minato, trying to drum up the proper enthusiasm, when he was actually staring at Akihiko’s cock disappearing back into his pants.

"You can leave during intermission, just make sure to come back immediately when the warning lights blink." 

"Okay, will do." He flipped the mouthpiece up. "We get off for a couple minutes," he announced, before stopping dead with a wince at his inappropriate choice of words.

Akihiko just looked at him. "I can’t even make the joke."

"Good," said Minato, shaking his head at his own idiocy. He quickly put himself away as well. "He says the lights will flash when we need to come back."

Akihiko nodded.

"So, um, thanks," Minato gestured towards the baggie, "but probably, bathroom, anyways?" Minato was surprised at how not-awkward this moment was turning out to be, but that didn’t make him feel any more suave than usual.

Akihiko gave a warm, relaxed smile. "Yeah, soap’s good. C’mon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To give some perspective at this moment in time:  
> We're in for the long haul, kids. Despite what you just read, these two aren't ending up together anytime soon. ; )


	4. Chapter 4

As the hot air blasted his hands, Minato gazed at himself in the mirror and tried to gauge whether he looked any different, whether anyone could tell what he'd been doing.

The dryer clicked off and he couldn't justify standing there any more. He settled for brushing his bangs back over his face, and exited the bathroom. 

He glanced over towards the refreshment table. Yukari had arrived, and she, Aigis, and Junpei of all people were frantically dishing out sweets and beverages to a thronging crowd. Well, at least he didn’t have to go talk to them, and try to not look flushed. 

His neck tensed as Akihiko came out the door behind him. Now that the afterglow had faded, Minato was starting to wonder what the hell he’d been thinking. If he’d been worried about awkwardness _before_... Yeah, what he'd just done was probably not a solution.

For an excuse to get out of the way, Minato walked over to take a drink from the water fountain. It was a bad choice, as it involved bending over, and he could feel Akihiko staring at him. As if he didn’t already feel self-conscious. And staring like that was just... _inappropriate_ in public! 

He straightened up resolutely. If Akihiko was going to act like that, the least he could do was head back early, instead of staying here in the public hallway. But by the time he turned around, Akihiko was halfway over to the refreshments table. There was a worrisome glint in the look he threw back over his shoulder.

"Senpai!" cried Junpei, clasping Akihiko on the shoulder convivially as he handed out drinks with the other hand. "How's it going?"

"Good, good. I see you're not in program hell anymore..."

"Sorry, there's no Mad Bull." Junpei turned back with a grin. "Nah. I got over it. And they're letting me handle the food! Well, the drinks next to the food, at least." He winked cheerfully. "I'm hoping for leftovers we can keep for all our hard service."

At that moment Fuuka came running up with her hands full of money. "This is all Mitsuru-senpai could spare! I hope it's enough."

"Anything will help," replied Yukari, grimacing as she peered into the cash box on Aigis' lap. The bill stack was overflowing, but there were practically no coins left. 

Fuuka watched wide-eyed as Aigis began sorting the change out of her hands at an inhuman speed. "Not so fast!" she whispered.

"Oh! Yes." Aigis slowed down considerably.

Junpei shoved a can at a bystander who'd been watching the exchange with far too much curiosity. "Here's your Fountain Dew." She was about to protest, but at his fierce look, she meekly handed over her money and walked away.

Akihiko clapped him on the shoulder. "Good job Junpei."

Still loitering near the water fountain, Minato was pleased that all the hubbub was keeping Akihiko's attention. He had appeared to have an ulterior motive in going over there, but evidently that wasn’t the case.

Leave it to Junpei to mess everything up. "Hey, where's Minato anyway?"

Akihiko gestured backwards with his head. The two of them turned towards Minato, a truly evil grin lighting Akihiko’s face.

How had Akihiko known he was still there? And why on earth had he stood there and watched instead of taking the opportunity to leave??

Minato plastered on a smile and headed over.

"Dude, where ya been?" Junpei greeted, double-fisting beverages into waiting hands as the line of customers scrolled past him. "Still havin’ fun?"

Junpei wasn’t watching, but Akihiko turned towards Minato with a brightly expectant face, awaiting his reply.

Minato’s responding expression was strained. "Uh, yeah. I’m really glad everything went smoothly."

"That’s not FUN! That’s responsibility!" exclaimed Junpei. "What happened to cheerful dancing you??"

"Dancing?" Akihiko raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn’t dancing," mumbled Minato.

"Well you were certainly enjoying yourself," retorted Junpei, "at least before the show started."

"Oh, I can vouch that he kept on enjoying himself." Akihiko’s eyes smirked outrageously at Minato. "He’s just being shy."

Thank god Junpei and the girls continued to be distracted. Minato willed himself not to blush.

"Though there wasn’t any dancing..." continued Akihiko, appraisingly.

"I’m not going to DANCE," hissed Minato.

Junpei pulled his head out from under the table, where he’d been sorting through the remaining stock. "Alright! I didn’t mean to push any buttons!" Akihiko just laughed soundlessly and helped him lift another tray of cans up onto the table.

Minato slumped against the wall, exasperated. How ironic _Junpei_ thought he was pushing buttons. Akihiko had Minato so confused he could barely remember why he'd been so happy earlier that evening. Oh yeah, maybe because _that was the brief window where Akihiko wasn't tormenting him_. When he could enjoy that everything was live, and there was an audience to hide from.

He looked around at the crowd, students gossiping in clumps, some obvious parents and grandparents, a few costumes and traditional outfits left over from earlier in the day. The festival already felt long ago...

He glanced over at Yukari, remembering her molten fury when they'd shown up at the cafe, and the peculiar shade of red she'd turned. He honestly didn't see what the big deal was; the outfit was silly but not demeaning. In fact, under her own blouse, she appeared to still be wearing the maid skirt...and it was significantly less revealing than her usual one!

Minato took a deep breath. "See," he told himself, "things can be normal. Normal school activities, normal Junpei crawling under the tablecloth, normal Yukari working really hard despite her complaining, big huge crowd of normal normal people. Normal people who hadn't just–"

His eyes shifted leftward towards Akihiko. "Didn't just... With their..." His cheeks flushed as the thought went uncompleted. He'd done a lot of strange things in this building, more than he could count. He'd just never thought his senpai would be one of them.

Akihiko leaned towards him, his face turned slightly away. The angle made him loom over Minato. "I will," he murmured lightly, "have you dancing before the night is out."

Minato just closed his eyes. He couldn't have spoken around the huge knot in his throat, and he didn't have a response anyway.

Akihiko straightened up. "Come on," he announced to the group at large, "we should be getting back."

Minato sighed helplessly. Pushing up off the wall, he nodded towards the girls, kicked at Junpei's shoe to say goodbye, and followed Akihiko back down the hallway.

~o~o~o~o~o~ 

Minato trailed along behind Akihiko's striding figure. All of intermission, he'd wanted nothing more than to escape backstage again, back to the darkness where no one else could see the ways Akihiko kept looking at him. He'd somehow managed to overlook that being _alone_ with Akihiko would be just as stressful...but now that realization was staring him down, as hard as Akihiko ever could.

Ahead of him, Akihiko was practically bopping as he walked. Minato felt like he was being led back to prison, and Akihiko was bouncing. He hunched in on himself despondently.

They passed through the stage door and came upon the actors, huddled together as always, behind the curtains on stage left. Akihiko favored them with the same blinding smile he'd aimed at Namiko on Thursday night. Minato scoured their faces, looking for signs of unease, indications they'd noticed anything that had happened on the couch during Act 1. 

_The couch_. Just thinking of it made his ears grow warm. 

One of the actors nodded back at Akihiko, but the others were too engrossed in their debate to care. One small triumph at least.

While crossing the stage, Minato couldn't help staring at the couch out of the corner of his eye. His footsteps lagged as he was flooded by sense memories — that voice in his ear, Akihiko's questing hands, the feel of the tufted cushions pressed against his body. He shuddered and sped up, looking forward in time to see the silver head disappear into the blackness ahead of him. 

After the floodlit stage, it was especially dark on the other side. Minato was grateful for the temporary blindness, though; it meant he didn't have to decide where to look. He hung out awkwardly in the prop storage area, picking at the corner of a box while waiting for his vision to adjust.

Akihiko was blessedly silent, but he doubted that would last for long.

When he finally gave in and looked up, Akihiko was draped against one of the cabinets in front of him. 

Minato blinked, thinking his eyes hadn't cleared yet. Akihiko looked...happy. Sincerely happy, not just kinky I-get-off-on-pushing-you-around happy. This was a first.

"So..." began Akihiko. "Act two. And we've got nothin' to do." He was trying to look complacent, but an irrepressible smile kept popping through around the edges. 

"Oh?" Minato croaked. He hastily cleared his throat.

"Uh huh," drawled Akihiko, nodding slowly. "However will we pass the time." His voice didn't rise at the end; it wasn't actually a question. 

Minato risked looking up again, and regretted it immediately. Akihiko was nearly vibrating with glee. Minato felt so lost, like the world was deliberately _trying_ to not make sense for him. "I dunno," he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Too bad," said Akihiko. "Well, I suppose if _you_ don't have any ideas..." His voice trailed off lightly, but picked up again in a far more suggestive manner. "...we'll just have to pick one of mine."

He paused to grin. "No worries, I have lots."

Minato's mouth went dry. He swallowed, he hoped inaudibly.

Akihiko pushed off the wall and stalked forward with a panther's grace. "Where _shall_ we start," he began, eagerly eyeing his prey. "What about–"

A crackle rang in Minato's ear. "Hello!" he burst out, startled but relieved. Akihiko stopped and squinted at him in confusion.

Minato belatedly flipped the headset down and took a deep breath. "Yes, Shunsuke-san, what can I do for you?"

Shunsuke laughed. "So helpful you are!"

Minato moved a few steps, turning away from Akihiko. "Well I try," he replied solicitously — the conversation felt like a lifeline to normalcy and he wanted to keep it going. "Did you get to have a break?"

"Someone has to guard the booth, so I asked Namiko-san to get me a drink, but did you see the crowd out there?" As Shunsuke went on, Minato glanced back over his shoulder.

Akihiko was...smoldering at him. Transfixed for a moment, Minato forgot to keep listening. Still staring back over his shoulder, he dimly registered something resembling a question.

Flustered, he found himself stammering as he whipped his head forward again. "Oh, um...sorry. Could you repeat that?"

"Well, the upshot is that we're starting again soon — you two should head back."

"Oh, we're here already. But–" The next words came rushing out of his mouth as he tried to not plead. "Are you _sure_ there's nothing I can do? I could leave the headset with Akihiko and go find Namiko for you!"

"No, she just got back. And I'm sorry to keep you there, but it's a real lifesaver for me. Just try and not be too bored, okay?"

"Okay," agreed Minato, trying to hide his dejection.

"And hey — break the other leg out there."

Minato briefly considered it as a valid means of escape, but he could tell that Shunsuke was waiting for another clever comeback. "And you.....fry the sound board." He signed off over Shunsuke's deep belly laugh.

"Didn't let you leave, did he?" The low voice came from right behind him.

Minato was unable to suppress his reflexive shudder. He didn't know when the other boy had moved, but now Akihiko was standing way too close.

Akihiko circled him without exiting his personal space, coming into his line of vision.

"What? No, I was just offering to help, that's all!"

Akihiko snorted in disbelief as he passed Minato's face. He strafed out of sight again.

"Funny, I don't believe you," he said. "I think you were," the mouth materialized right behind his ear and dropped to a breathy register, "trying to escape me."

The second denial died with a gurgle in Minato's throat. 

"Now why," continued Akihiko, coming to rest lightly against the decrepit crate, "would you do that?" He cocked his head to the side expectantly.

Minato felt rooted to the spot. He stared at Akihiko helplessly and fervently hoped that was a rhetorical question.

"No answers?" Akihiko tsked, shaking his head in disappointment. 

" _Honestly_ ," he said in a withering tone. He began pacing back and forth in front of his quarry, each foot slapping the floor with obvious disapproval. "I'd think someone like _you_ would be brave enough to admit what you want."

He kept talking, but Minato didn't hear anything else. After everything they'd been through together, to be called a COWARD? Over _this bullshit_?! 

He glared in outrage at Akihiko's back. Akihiko had been pacing away from him, only now spinning around confidently on the ball of his foot — and stopping dead at the sight of Minato's face. 

"You want a response?" Minato spoke quietly, but the fury blazing through him was palpable. "How about _no_ , I can't believe you _think_ that of me." He took a step closer to Akihiko. "Or no, I can't believe I'm letting you _treat_ me this way." His voice was rising in pitch and fervor as he went along, thank the gods it was still intermission. "And how about YES, I wish I hadn't done whatever it was that - made - you - go - insane!"

Stomping forward with each of those last words, Minato ended the sentence nearly shouting into Akihiko's face. Satisfied with his stunned expression, Minato shoved past him and disappeared into the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long, continuous chapter is long and continuous. And full of smut!

Minato kicked the old desk, hard. It felt good to make noise. He kicked it again, angry at it for being the birthplace of all his problems and yet the only place he could run to.

Mostly, the kicking just made his foot hurt.

In frustration, he threw himself onto the desk and curled into a ball against the back wall. He no longer recognized himself. What was _happening_ to him? And what had happened to _Akihiko?_ He resisted banging his head on the concrete blocks behind him. Everything had gotten so _weird_. 

He clasped his legs tighter and glowered over his knees. He didn't know who to be angrier at — himself or Akihiko.

Okay, definitely Akihiko. Minato may have lost the ability to say the simple word 'no,' to end this one and for all, but Akihiko had started all of this. And continued all of this. And used those strong boxer's hands to — Minato cut that thought short. In any case, _he_ was clearly at fault.

Minato blushed and hid his face against his legs. He wondered when he'd get control of his body back. 

In the distance, silence began falling over the crowd. Soon he heard the rigging creak overhead as the curtains drew open for Act 2, and a moment later, a rustle nearby.

His head jerked up, eyes already narrowed. Akihiko stood several feet away, looking at him cautiously.

"What do _you_ want? Go away."

Akihiko shook his head.

Minato stared in angry disbelief at his refusal. "This is my space. I found it, go away."

"...Our space," whispered Akihiko.

"What. Part. Of _leave me alone_. DON'T you _understand_??" Trying to yell in a whisper made his head hurt, like he was going to burst a blood vessel.

Akihiko looked at him with a pained expression. "I didn't–" He stopped abruptly, staring down at his hands. He sighed and started again, speaking into his chest. "...I wasn't trying to upset you."

Minato deflated, sagging against the wall and flopping his head forward onto his knees. He didn't respond, and neither boy spoke for several minutes.

Minato finally lifted his head. "Why are you doing this?" he pleaded quietly, plaintiveness and confusion edging the anger out of his voice.

Akihiko gave an awkward shrug and inched closer. "Why aren't you?"

The anger flowed back immediately. "This isn't a _game_!" he hissed.

"No, no!" exclaimed Akihiko, waving his hands apologetically. "I mean, why are you stopping it?"

He perched delicately on the very edge of the desk, maintaining a careful distance from the other boy and watching for him to lash out again. "Just say no if you want to. But you don't seem to want to."

"'Cause you've got me ALL figured out," sniped Minato, bitterly.

"Don't I?"

Minato sputtered. "...Shut up!" 

Akihiko gave him an incredulous look. 

Minato glared back balefully and tried to resist a childish urge to pout. He couldn't understand how Akihiko has seized the upper hand again so quickly.

Without breaking eye contact, Akihiko stood up and slowly put his knee onto the desk, prelude to crawling on top of it. Leaning forward as he drew the second leg up, he paused at the apex. "I think it's sexy when you fight it," he said, his voice low and breathy.

Two crawl-steps would close the distance between them, but Minato stopped him before he could take any at all.

"Now see? That's exactly what I'm talking about! You stop that, right now."

Akihiko cocked an outrageous eyebrow. "...No.

A look of mild panic flashed over Minato's face, he was hemmed in and couldn't push back farther into the wall. "YES," he tried again, insistently.

"No," reiterated Akihiko, crawling one step closer.

"YES!" cried Minato, scrabbling past him and leaping off the edge of the desk. He landed and spun around, panting into the sudden stillness. 

Akihiko twisted his neck to look at Minato, now standing skittish and jittery several feet away. He sat back onto his feet and peered at Minato with a quizzical expression. 

"So, was that a yes, or a no?"

Minato huffed in annoyance. "A yes — to _stopping_." 

"I see," said Akihiko dryly. "To stopping." He slid forward, letting his legs hang over the edge of the desk for a moment, before slipping off onto silent feet.

"Had to make sure," he added quietly, moving slowly but relentlessly towards Minato, who tried not to skitter backwards. 

"Because the _last_ time you told me 'yes,' it definitely wasn't about stopping." 

Distracted by his approach, Minato didn't register the comment until Akihiko was at close range. His eyes flared with indignation, but he had little time to do more than lean back, arms straightening angrily, before Akihiko was on him.

Akihiko seized him by the elbows, locking Minato's arms at his sides. "It's even hotter when you're angry," he breathed, as his lips descended onto Minato's.

Minato stiffened and tried to pull away, but Akihiko had a firm grip on his arms, so his shoulders only wriggled futilely. Finally he gave up and slumped within his grip, marveling at the absurdity of the situation. Akihiko seemed to be unreachable, so lost in the kiss he probably wouldn't notice anything short of Minato biting him. As satisfying as that idea was, he presumed Akihiko would enjoy it rather than see it as reason to stop. 

So he was stuck, kissing this half-mad, cavalier, completely unappeasable version of his senpai. ...Who probably shouldn't have been left to his own devices for this long, because as resistant as Minato was, the kiss was starting to get good. Akihiko's tongue was tracing feather-light strokes along his upper lip, and the moment Minato's resolve began to waver, his jaw involuntarily unclenched, letting Akihiko sweep inside. 

Akihiko was just so enthusiastic, and caught up in what he was doing, and the perfect amount taller than Minato to tip his head back the slightest bit and delve into his mouth, and okay, maybe Minato was beginning to enjoy himself. He was starting to consider reciprocating, eyelids drifting gently shut and mouth softening, when Akihiko pulled back.

Minato blinked up at him, mouth still open, confused by the timing of his retreat. 

Akihiko's eyes were hooded and his breath rough. His hands struggled to detach from Minato, but eventually he succeeded, dropping them at his own sides with uncharacteristic clumsiness. 

It was the first time Minato had seen him struggle with control. At such close range, Minato could see the lust clouding his eyes and the flush prickling his cheeks. The contrast between this state of abandon and Akihiko's prior mocking, controlled superiority was striking. Minato sucked in a surprised breath. Maybe this really _was_ sincere? Maybe Akihiko did want HIM, not just someone to harass?

Akihiko had been watching him closely in return. Minato suddenly wondered what his own face was betraying — especially when he wasn't sure what he thought! He licked his lips nervously. 

Akihiko's eyes were immediately drawn to the motion, and stuck there, staring lavishly. Minato couldn't fight the compulsion to bite his lower lip, hiding at least some of it from view. Still consumed by his staring, Akihiko leaned in again, ever so slowly.

He came to a stop just before contact, breath ghosting over Minato's face. His eyes slid upward to Minato's, half questioning, half challenging. And he waited. 

Minato's breath stuttered beneath their locked gaze. Akihiko was forcing him to take the next step. An open precipice yawned in front of him, daring him to walk off the edge.

Before he could decide not to, Minato lifted his chin and closed the gap between them, lips parted softly. 

Akihiko let Minato kiss him tentatively for a moment. But the permission in Minato's posture was too much for him to resist, and he surged forward, resuming ownership of the kiss. He clasped Minato by the arms again and pulled their bodies together, tilting him to his desired angle. 

Minato was swept up in the moment as well. Unable to move his arms, he poured his attention into the press of their lips. Akihiko's parted slightly and Minato's tongue darted forward without thought, into the warm recesses of his mouth. It was immediately met by Akihiko's tongue, and a pleased rumble from the back of his throat. Akihiko's tongue slid over and around Minato's, stroking from every side, eventually nestling close and sucking at it in a way that made Minato's entire body go warm and mold itself against Akihiko's.

When they finally pulled apart, the widest grin split Akihiko's face, happy and triumphant and devouring. It made Minato's stomach lurch, flying and falling as if he was on the down slope of a roller coaster. Still, he followed that grin, almost magnetically, as it retreated towards the desk. At that moment, he'd probably have followed it anywhere. 

Akihiko hopped onto the edge of the desk and reached for Minato's hand, drawing him forward to stand between his knees. Minato placed a hand on each thigh in front of him and hesitantly raised his face to Akihiko's. 

The older boy smiled down at him. Warm hands cupped Minato's jaw and drew him into a loose kiss, mouths sliding, a tongue tracing the ticklish inner edges of his lips. Minato leaned into it, up on his toes, neck arching sideways. His hands gripped onto Akihiko's pocket flaps for balance. Any lingering concerns he had were melting away with proximity to Akihiko's body. 

The kiss deepened. One of Akihiko's hands drifted to the back of his neck, tugging him closer. Minato was starting to feel hazy. His hands gripped tighter and tighter, providing a grounding point to help him remember which direction was up, reassurance that he hadn't tilted off the side of the world.

The stiff fabric of the pocket flaps was getting crushed beneath his fingers. Minato suddenly remembered that the pants weren't Akihiko's. Maybe? Something like that... Certainly there was a reason he shouldn't destroy them — his muddled brain was sure of that. 

He released one of his death grips and flung that arm around Akihiko's waist instead. For a moment he was proud of his ingenuity, his palm resting flat on the smooth cotton of Akihiko's shirt, on the...smooth plane of his, lower back... Okay, thinking of it that way wasn't helping the situation, not when he could feel heated skin sliding beneath the thin cloth.

Minato's fingers clenched uncontrollably, tips pressing as if they could forcibly dissolve through fabric to reach the skin below. 

Akihiko growled deep within his throat and wrapped a leg around Minato's hips, pulling him flush against him. Minato gasped an inhale, shocked by the heat of Akihiko's body pressed suddenly against his. Akihiko gave a dark chuckle without letting go of his mouth.

Akihiko's warmth was seeping into Minato, making him feel languid and drapey, susceptible to the beat starting to pulse through his veins. It was as if the world's biggest speakers were pumping a bass line directly into him. 

Minato experimentally circled his hips, brushing against Akihiko's inner thighs and away again. The hand on his neck twitched slightly.

Noting the response, Minato smiled against Akihiko's mouth. He tried it again, pressing a bit harder, and running his tongue along Akihiko's lips in sync with the motion. The hand flexed abruptly, clasping the back of his head — and like that he was addicted.

The next time he swayed his entire body, free arm stroking across Akihiko's back as it retracted, the other hand releasing its pocket and gliding up the firm length of his thigh. The hands circled Akihiko's hips from opposite directions and slid underneath him, trapping themselves.

Akihiko pulled back with a wry expression. "Having fun, are we?" 

"Uh huh," replied Minato, sliding a hip along one thigh, and then the other.

Akihiko shifted in his seat, pressing onto Minato's fingers. "Your hands cold? I could help with that."

Minato gave a throaty laugh and wiggled his trapped fingers. "No, they're pretty happy right now."

Akihiko's hands suddenly materialized on his ass, gripping firmly and possessively. "Now mine are too."

A thrill spiked through Minato's body at the way Akihiko's voice flashed dusky. He'd been caught mid-sway, and his head tipped pliantly back as he was tugged forward. Akihiko's mouth grinned and descended onto his jawline, outlining it from underneath and following his pulse down the front of his throat.

When one of Akihiko's hands slid upward and under the hem of his shirt, warm fingers tracing the inside of his waistband, Minato thought his knees would buckle. His own hands flexed against the wood of the desk, one set of fingers flying loose to weave themselves through Akihiko's belt loop for support. 

"Minato-san?"

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"Minato-san," the voice hissed, more urgently.

"What??" he asked, head lolling to the side. Akihiko was nuzzling his collarbone, nipping at it through the fabric of his shirt. Minato had no idea why he kept trying to get his attention.

Wait, that didn't make any sense. 

"Minato-san, I don't know if you're there. But you're sending a lot of...odd transmissions down the line."

Minato's eyes popped open. He struggled to locate first his hands and then the transceiver. Akihiko was unperturbed by the fuss, but finally sat back with a small huff when Minato's eyes begged him to help. His left hand released Minato's ass, but his right hand remained tucked inside his waistband, fingertips tightening ever so slightly.

Minato now had a bit of space to move, but the transceiver appeared to be caught _under_ Akihiko's leg. He had to dip his knees to get the damned thing loose, then pumped the transmit button several times to be absolutely sure it was not stuck open. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the mouthpiece into place.

"I'm sorry, Shunsuke-san!" he breathed. "I am here now."

"Hello Minato-san." The stage manager's greeting was unusually subdued. Minato's stomach dropped a little bit. 

He fiddled with the wire to his headset. "So, um, what were you...hearing...?"

Akihiko's hand began to move, tracing tiny circles on the ticklish bare skin of Minato's lower back.

"A bunch of interference, like you were leaning on and off the button."

"Yes, I must have–"

"And lots of breathing."

"Oh." Well, that was bad, but not _so_ bad. Minato began again, ever so casually. "But I wasn't...saying anything?" 

"No, you did," Shunsuke replied matter-of-factly. Minato's eyes fell closed in embarrassment — he wracked his brain to remember if he'd said anything incriminating in the last few minutes.

"I only caught snippets though. I assumed the mouthpiece was up."

"Ah," said Minato, trying to think on his feet. At that moment, the hand on his back slipped lower, a nail catching the elastic of his underwear. He shot Akihiko a warning look.

"That's...too bad!" he added heartily, into the headset. "I was saying so many good things about you and the play."

Shunsuke chuckled. "I'm sure you were." He paused. "Though, I heard Sanada-san a lot more clearly than I expected. Make sure the two of you are keeping it down back there, okay?"

Minato exhaled the faintest ironic laugh and glanced downward. He didn't anticipate either of them doing that in the near future.

"Sure thing, Shunsuke-san. Sorry for the noise." Shunsuke made a noncommittal sound and signed off.

Minato heaved a sigh and flipped the headset up. He would have preferred to take it off and stomp it to pieces, in retribution for broadcasting his secrets to a near-complete stranger.

Akihiko pulled his hand back sharply. Minato tried not to flinch at the sudden elastic snap, and then tried not to miss the contact the very second it disappeared.

Akihiko leaned back on his hands. "So, your dancing got you in trouble."

"MY dancing?!"

"I'm not surprised," continued Akihiko, as if Minato hadn't spoken. He nudged Minato's hip with his knee. "You have no control over those things."

Minato crossed his arms. "And you're completely innocent here." 

Akihiko shrugged, and then grinned. "I'm flattered if I inspire you, but you gotta keep it together."

Minato leaned forward, without uncrossing his arms. "Well you're wrong," he said. "My dancing got _us_ in trouble." Okay, making vaguely threatening pronouncements in a low voice was actually kinda fun. Maybe he understood Akihiko's behavior a little bit more. 

The boy in question raised an eyebrow. 

"Shunsuke specifically heard _you_ through my headset. So maybe you should keep things under control." Minato leaned back smugly, thinking he'd finally won a point on Akihiko.

He wasn't expecting the look of demonic glee he got in response.

"I'd love to," breathed Akihiko. In one smooth motion he was on his feet, sliding his hands once more down the back of Minato's slacks. "I thought you'd never ask," he muttered against the shell of Minato's ear.

"I didn't ask!" exclaimed Minato, smacking ineffectually at his back. 

Akihiko spun them around, pressing Minato against the edge of the desk and insinuating a knee between his. He slowly leaned in, shifting his leg upward and adding more weight behind it. Minato groaned and fell still when he realized his flailing was only succeeding in rubbing him against Akihiko.

Even standing still, he remained pinned by that leg. Behind him, Akihiko's hands flattened against his skin, palms gliding upward under his shirt. They skimmed slowly and possessively over his back, surveying every inch, then skirted ticklishly under his arms. Minato swallowed a breathy giggle.

His shirt rose as the hands moved across his upper chest, fingertips trailing along his collarbone. Minato's shoulders pulled back of their own accord, trying to give Akihiko better access. He was hazily noting that fact when the questing palms dragged themselves across his nipples and the air in his throat seized.

Akihiko grinned and circled back for another pass, and another, palms flexing to catch and massage the small nubs. Minato shuddered. He'd never known they could be so _sensitive_. His hands curled backwards around the edge of the desk for support.

Akihiko eased closer, his thigh nudging dangerously high. Minato shifted restlessly with nowhere to move.

Hot words spilled against his cheek. "I like you like this."

Minato's head dipped away on instinct. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, he stared off into the dusty blackness — tried for a moment to block out the sensation of Akihiko's hands, still lifting his shirt, still caressing his skin. Maybe he wasn't ready for this. He'd barely had a moment of space to himself, to process any of this, and now he was _once again_ trapped.

"Hey," said Akihiko. His tone was conciliatory, trying to draw him back, but Minato didn't move. 

Akihiko's hands slid lower and came to rest soothingly on Minato's stomach, stacked atop one another. "Hey," he tried again, warmer, more gentle.

Minato shifted his weight to the other foot and looked further away.

"Hey." This time Akihiko was firm, almost impatient. It was halfway to an order. A hand gripped Minato's chin to pull his head back up.

Minato inhaled sharply, poised to fight, but then his eyes made contact with Akihiko's reassuring gray.

" _Relax_ ," he said. "You have nothing to stress about, okay?" In contrast to the grip he still had on Minato's jaw, his voice was calm and quiet.

Minato took a deep breath, then nodded and deliberately unclenched his shoulders. Akihiko nodded back, once. "Good."

Akihiko released his grip, running the back of a finger over the spot and gazing thoughtfully. He leaned forward and dropped a tiny kiss where his thumb had pressed. 

Minato's stomach quivered, without his permission. He glanced quickly at Akihiko, wondering if he'd noticed the reaction.

Akihiko smiled back, and moved up to kiss him for real. His body slid forward, fitting against Minato's as if it was the most natural thing in the world. One hand curved around Minato's hipbone, fingers splaying around the back, and the other wove into the hair at the base of his skull. 

Minato clasped his arms around Akihiko's back and tried to actually relax.

The hand from his hair moved gently down his back, petting more than anything else. That did feel good, the long strokes wiping away his tension. When they finally disengaged, Minato sighed peacefully. 

His eyes fluttered open. Instead of withdrawing, Akihiko's hand settled against the front of his pants. They fluttered immediately shut again. 

Akihiko chuckled at him, almost kindly. "That's fine," he said, the sweetness in his voice slowly turning to gravel, "...you don't have to watch."

Minato reopened his eyes to shoot him an irritated glance. 

Akihiko shrugged it off. "Can't stop me from watching _you_. Which is all I really want."

Minato rolled his eyes.

"The question is," Akihiko's voice was suddenly taut, eyes trained on Minato's face. "...What do _you_ really want?"

His fingers slither-stepped distractingly up the front panel of Minato's fly, not waiting for a reply. Minato heaved a shallow breath and urgently tried to decide whether it was safer to have his eyes open or closed.

"Funny," said Akihiko. "You're not talking, but I can still hear you." His fingernail tapped against the hard plastic button atop Minato's fly. The tremor transferred through and settled in Minato's abdomen. 

"Are you _sure_ this is what you want?" Akihiko asked facetiously, a mocking, almost caustic edge in his voice. 

And like that, something snapped into place within Minato.

His chin lifted as he directed a steady gaze straight at Akihiko. "No," he answered, truthfully.

The next moment was like the pause before the lightning strike, Minato's eyes burning hard and challenging — before morphing seductive as his body recklessly seized control. His head developed an impudent tilt all on its own, and his voice fell into a register he didn't know he had. Minato could feel his lips puff invitingly as they issued the dare. "But do it anyway."

For a moment Akihiko blinked at him. Then a deep, approving smirk descended over his face, alluring and wicked and inspiring all at once. It made Minato's toes tingle. It made him want to exceed Akihiko's expectations on a more regular basis. 

It made him wonder what he'd just unleashed.

The wave of approbation continued down Akihiko's body, visibly altering his body language. He draped languidly against Minato's side. 

"I like your honesty," he purred. 

Minato was hovering, dazed by the transformation he'd just instigated. He had no idea what to say next — but he had to keep playing the game, so Akihiko would keep _smiling_ at him like that. He clung on to his provocative look, the matching insolent twist of shoulder and eyebrow, but it kept trying to dissolve into vapid, reverent gaping. 

He settled for holding fast at a neutral expression; the appearance, at least, of keeping his shit together, even though his blood was thrumming wildly in recognition of what he'd just proposed. 

Akihiko, undeterred by Minato's residual turmoil, continued to beam at him sinfully. In one motion, his fingers plucked open the flap of Minato's fly and grasped the fob on his zipper. He fondled the small strip with unsubtle symbolism. 

Minato let out a careful breath. That hand hovered so close, he was fairly sure Akihiko could feel his pulse thudding through the metal itself. 

The way Akihiko stroked his thumb across the zipper pull, it seemed like he might. 

"How about this," Akihiko offered, his voice conversational. "I'll get started..." The twining fingers yanked suddenly, ripping the zipper open in one go. Minato's body jerked before he could control it.

The rest of his sentence turned heavily sardonic. "...And you just let me know what you don't like." 

Minato exhaled one syllable of a laugh, a harsh barking thing. They both knew he wouldn't be speaking up. 

"Okay," he replied hoarsely.

The other boy settled directly in front of him, both hands on the leather of his belt. The pop of the buckle was loud in the silence.

Akihiko stared at him aggressively, Minato's pants held up only by his grip. Minato scrabbled to grab the radio, clutching it to his chest a moment before Akihiko let go with both hands at once.

Weighed down by the belt, his pants rapidly hit the floor. He was urged out of his shoes and onto the desk behind him. Minato found himself frozen in crab position, arms and knees bent from crawling backward, gazing up at Akihiko as he kicked the discarded clothing aside and loomed over top of him.

Akihiko's expression was stony and unreadable. He trailed the back of his hand up the inside of Minato's leg, on display before him. Minato shuddered at his exposed position, and one corner of Akihiko's mouth quirked.

He wrapped a hand behind each of Minato's calves and pulled him closer, until his knees hung over the edge of the desk. One hand reached forward, fingers curling into the waistband of Minato's underwear. Minato knew his arousal hadn't been secret for a very long time, but he still blushed as he prayed for a safe extraction from the constricting fabric.

"Last chance," taunted Akihiko, nearly under his breath. Minato hadn't even thought about replying when a chilled woosh of air hit him — the fabric was already pulled over and down, and sure hands were reaching behind him for the rest of the waistband. Minato lifted his hips, bewildered.

And like that he was naked from the waist down, sprawled on his back and propped unevenly on his elbows. Despite his newly revealed anatomy, Akihiko was staring at his face. The eye contact was too intense; Minato dipped away from the hungry expression, just in time to watch Akihiko's left hand advance steadily towards him. Minato's breath hitched as the warm fingers engulfed the base of his cock.

Akihiko's fingers flexed as they wrapped around him, but he didn't complete the circuit with his thumb, so his grip was light as he stroked slowly upward. He repeated the motion, fingers draped over the top while the pad of his thumb trailed along the underside. He seemed to be cataloging the feeling of Minato's skin rather than trying to get anywhere.

When his hand returned a third time, Minato's hips nudged at it of their own accord, an encouraging shove he wasn't able to abort in time. A smirk blossomed out one end of Akihiko's mouth. "Oh, I know what you want," he said aloud. Minato wasn't sure whether Akihiko was speaking to him, or to his lower extremities in particular. Admittedly, there seemed to be three parties in this encounter, Minato's body determined to proceed with or without his consent.

As if to prove himself to Minato's querulous penis, Akihiko gave it one firm, agonizingly good stroke, slow and drawn out and just the right tension, with this little twist on the release that made Minato's eyes go loose in his skull.

"But that doesn't mean I'm going to give it to you," he continued. His hand drifted back, gliding lightly over the now-sensitized surface of Minato's dick. There was no rhythm to his movements. His fingertips traced along ridges in random directions, wandering in a maddening fashion. He scribed one delicate stripe with his fingernails that caused Minato to jolt. 

"No," breathed Akihiko, engrossed in his explorations. "Not quite yet..." 

Minato collapsed the rest of the way onto his back, focused on containing his responses and not embarrassing himself again. He stared upward and took in deep lungfuls of air to steel himself against the ticklish, too-light touches. It should have been easier, now that Akihiko was absorbed in something besides staring at his face...but it wasn't. Not that he couldn't handle the teasing (Akihiko was surely capable of worse), but the look on Akihiko's face was overwhelming.

He resembled a child who'd just received a beloved, long-desired toy, one he never thought he'd own, and couldn't comprehend that it had actually happened. Minato felt really weird being the focus of that gaze. He supposed some boys were conceited enough to see their dick as the best gift in the universe, but Minato habitually avoided being the center of attention. 

Still, looking away was helping. With each exhale, he felt a bit more in control of himself and a bit less on display. His eyes fell closed as his breathing evened out. It was almost like meditating — he felt centered for the first time all day.

This, of course, was Akihiko's cue to shift gears. His grip tightened without warning, sliding from root to tip and pulling a groan out of Minato along with it.

"Well, maybe a bit of what you want," Akihiko murmured. "Just to tide you over." Akihiko's hand began pumping him aggressively and Minato's hard-earned serenity went out the window. His arms flung desperately out to the sides, looking for something to hold onto. His right hand wrapped over the rolled edge of the desk, clenching whitely, while his left palm could only press hard into the flat surface, giving him an anchor as he tried to keep his body still. 

His composure was disappearing embarrassingly quickly, head buzzing and limbs tingling. His dangling feet felt heavy, though he couldn't tell if that was from too much or not enough blood. At this rate, it might not be long until he lost it completely.

Then, as abruptly as it started, Akihiko's grip loosened, returning to the gentlest floating stroke imaginable. Minato groaned again, this time in frustration. 

"Shhh," soothed Akihiko. "It's okay, trust me. I know what you like."

Minato grumbled, unmollified. Even if that was true, so far Akihiko had only used that knowledge to keep him on edge — on his back exposed and hard while Akihiko...went on some mapping expedition instead of getting him off! The world's least existent handjob was _not_ what he liked. 

Akihiko gave a quiet laugh as he continued to pet Minato with his fingertips. Minato tilted his head up to see Akihiko's face, but he wasn't looking back. Akihiko's non-grip rotated, switching from fingers to palm, prompting a foolishly hopeful bounce from Minato's hips. Akihiko chuckled again and Minato fell back onto the desk. Unlike his ridiculous hips, he wasn't easily fooled — he knew the delicate brushing motion wasn't going to lead anywhere. 

He sighed and closed his eyes, reaching for that calm he'd had before.

As expected, Akihiko's hand continued to drift lazily. Minato, however, had successfully reestablished his zen and was managing to not mind. His erection hadn't gotten the message to chill, but he was doing fine. He breathed in and out evenly and tried to enjoy the touch for what it was.

His disengagement hadn't gone unnoticed. He heard a barely audible _tch_ of irritation, and, despite his best interests, Minato sent a grin up towards the ceiling. Provoking Akihiko was a pretty terrible idea, but it was just too hard to resist. 

The meandering hand came to a sudden stop, and almost immediately seized him firmly near the base. He probably should be worried...but after all the mixed sensations, that simple gesture felt really good. Finally, something that wasn't too little or too much. The hand wasn't moving yet, but Minato hoped it would lead somewhere good. 

Except — he could tell something was off. The hand wasn't moving, but the arm attached to it was clearly shifting. 

Akihiko's voice broke into his thoughts. "Can't have you drifting off, now can we?" The tone was neutral, but leading, dangerously so.

Minato lifted up onto his elbows to try and read Akihiko's expression. His eyes had to travel farther than expected, drifting lower until they finally caught the other boy bent over, smirk hovering right atop–

Minato froze, eyes wide as if _he'd_ been caught doing something.

The smirk grew impossibly wider. Akihiko's eyebrows waggled audaciously...and then his eyes had to carry on the smirk, because his mouth was occupied. No longer hovering, but opening and wrapping redly around Minato and _descending_. 

Minato's brain tried to have fifteen different thoughts simultaneously, random observations all spurting out at once. His eyelids were locked open. Akihiko's lips glistened as they stretched around him. He couldn't see Akihiko's eyes anymore, just fine silver spikes as his head rotated downward. Good _god_ , his mouth was warm. Minato still couldn't blink. His nervous system was backlogged, unable to keep up with the flood of incoming messages, so nothing was really working as intended. Another inch of flesh had disappeared into Akihiko's mouth. He wasn't sure — it had been as much vibration as sound, and it was extremely hard to feel anything over the rushing in his ears or hear past the nerves screaming in his dick — but Akihiko may have just _purred_ around him. 

Yes, there it was again — a definite rumble as his mouth quested lower, lips reaching towards his clenched fist. And then he was pulling back, lips still closed tightly, distending as they made the long slide upward.

Akihiko let go with a breathy exhale. Minato was expecting to hear one of his demeaning quips, but Akihiko looked a little shell-shocked. Neither of them said anything, just stared openly at one another. The silence between them grew so deep that Minato could nearly make out what the actors were saying, off in far-away reality.

Reality...that place where your senpai didn't spontaneously pin you down and decide to have his way with your body. Where Minato's days involved saner things, like killing demons during an hour that didn't exist — not being pushed into a panic attack and immediately asking for more. Where he thought of Akihiko as his best fighter, rather than... Minato had no idea how to finish that sentence. 

Akihiko's face lit up. Who knew what _he'd_ been thinking about during that pause, but this time around he was smiling, not smirking. It was broad and giddy with adrenaline — overflowing with happy amazement, like they'd both just stepped off his favorite theme park ride, or completed a skydive together.

"You up for more of that?" he asked breathlessly. 

Minato nodded instantly, tight and rapid. If he'd tried to speak, it would probably have come out as a squeak.

"Yeah, okay," agreed Akihiko, apparently conversing with himself. He distractedly echoed the nod as his eyes swiveled back to Minato's erection. Minato wanted to blush under his gaze, but not as much as he wanted Akihiko to–

Minato bit back a moan. Do that, he'd wanted Akihiko to do exactly that. Except, he wouldn't have imagined what Akihiko was currently doing with his tongue, slowly probing the slit, lips wrapped around and suckling at the head. It made him want to grab fistfuls of that silver hair and thrust into his face. 

Akihiko chuckled, which Minato felt rather than heard. His hands came forward to still Minato's restless hips. Once the subject of his attention wasn't bobbing about with barely restrained passion, Akihiko was able to move again, adding saliva so he could slide more easily. His lips made obscene smacking noises each time they disconnected from Minato's skin.

Minato was enthralled. Still up on his elbows, he watched every movement, Akihiko's mouth sucking kisses down one side of his erection, tongue swooping around the base and tracing in loops up the other side. Suddenly realizing he'd been holding it, Minato let out a shuddery breath. 

The corner of Akihiko's mouth curled up. He pulled off and mimicked Minato, breathing a wavering streak across the newly damp skin. Even the light brush of air sent goosebumps flashing down Minato's bare legs. A flood of absurd giggles threatened to burst out of him.

Akihiko grinned at the response and leaned in again. He mouthed a wet circle onto Minato's deeply flushed skin, covering the center with a swipe of his tongue. Pulling back an inch or two, he began blowing a slow, deliberate spiral, circling outward in one endless breath. Minato heard a faint keening noise for a good several seconds before he realized it was his own.

When Akihiko leaned forward a third time, Minato's leg twitched sharply, skewing his hips to the side to put an extra inch of space between them. 

"No, please..." His voice came out strained. He sucked in a breath. "That's too–" 

Akihiko arched an intrigued eyebrow at him, and Minato bit back the rest of the sentence, afraid to give him any further ammunition. 

Akihiko chuckled as he stood up, wearing a tiny secretive smile. He locked eyes with Minato. He gazed at him steadily, waiting until Minato quieted and his nervous respiration slowed. 

Minato finally went still, transfixed under that gaze and the fog of anticipation in the air. 

Akihiko's mouth quirked, a glint of approval in his eyes. 

He continued to hold the gaze as his hand trailed across Minato's hipbone and encircled his cock, holding it steady. He held the gaze as he leaned forward, hot breath glazing Minato's skin on the approach. He held the gaze as his head tipped, mouth opening roundly and fitting snug over the head, without a single glance downward. He held the gaze even as he rotated forward, then began sliding lower, eyelids fluttering shut just as they moved out of Minato's sight.

Minato's eyes followed suit, head rolling back and dropping to dangle loosely between his shoulderblades. He hung there suspended, leaning hard on his elbows to stay upright.

Akihiko sank steadily lower, lips flexing to accommodate his continuous movement. Minato's hips wanted to squirm, but the fist holding him was like iron, pinning him to the desk. By now Akihiko had gotten halfway down his length. The suction-tightness-heat-pressure, the constant slide of Akihiko's lips, the wet press of the tongue cradling him, were all combining to melt Minato's brain. 

Akihiko didn't stop until his lips brushed his knuckles. There he paused thoughtfully, breathing calmly through his nose, lips smacking slightly as they waited in place. Even _that_ felt good to Minato, soft skin minutely suctioning and releasing around him. 

After a moment, Akihiko slowly began to pull up, letting his lips drag intentionally, dry and catching against Minato's skin.

Minato gave a soft cry at the intensity of it. Akihiko was keeping his lips loose, but each time they slid over a ridge, sticking for a moment before bumping past, Minato's body ratcheted tighter. Akihiko leaned into it eagerly, bending lower to allow more of his lip to drag...and accidentally exposing his teeth.

Minato's hands were already clenched, so when Akihiko's teeth scraped along the underside of his cock, his nails nearly broke through the skin. He bit his lip to keep from squealing, thighs burning with the strain of not jumping and making everything worse. 

Akihiko mumbled something unintelligible and patted Minato's leg apologetically. Minato breathed a dry squeaky laugh. He systematically uncurled his clenched fists, digging his fingernails out of his palms and laying them flat against the desk. Akihiko began moving again, cautiously at first, with extra saliva.

Of course, the reprieve didn't last for long. Deprived of one methodology, Akihiko readily traded the slow tease for wet and dirty. He suckled wetly and vigorously as he slid upward, head swooping in little switchbacks as he went. At the top he tugged at Minato with his fist, pulling him to a better angle, and immediately reversed direction, sliding all the way down and back again. Akihiko hummed in satisfaction as he sped up, chaining one pass into another as Minato's skin grew slick, pressing excited murmurs into his skin, sounds existing for a molecule's breadth before osmosing directly into Minato's bloodstream.

Minato grew restless beneath him, thrashing faintly. Soon Akihiko was moving faster and faster, up and down the center of the shaft, bobbing endlessly without coming up for air. Through his own haze, Minato could hear Akihiko breathing in sharp pants through his nose. His world was gradually narrowing to flashes of sensation — Akihiko's murmurs vibrating through him, the head of his cock bouncing off the roof of Akihiko's mouth, Akihiko's free hand curling possessively around his hip. He could sense the beginnings of an orgasm, gathering down around his ankles, slowly organizing itself for the long climb up his legs.

Akihiko finally eased back, breaking suction with a soft pop but keeping the tip in his mouth. He wasn't breathing that heavily, but each exhale surged warmly around Minato, igniting tremors through the already-tight muscles in his thighs and abdomen. 

Akihiko adjusted his grip on the base of Minato's dick, shifting it like a joystick to swirl the head in his mouth. His tongue twirled around it in lazy counter-circles. Minato almost moaned at the change in sensation, his body going limp. It was very difficult to not join in the spiraling, roll his hips up into Akihiko's mouth.

He felt Akihiko's lips stretch into a grin. The hand clamped tighter, maneuvering him as Akihiko's tongue twisted around him in playful coils. Minato's blood felt effervescent, like he was about to laugh out loud. Akihiko's tongue fluttered along the top of his dick, tracing down over the head and underneath, curving to cup and heft the weight of it. The tip of his tongue curled up automatically, probing at the underside of the head. 

Minato abruptly gasped. His hips jerked, sharp as in a reflex test, pulling him out of Akihiko's mouth in the process. He stared down at the older boy, panting slightly, no idea what had just happened.

Akihiko made a delighted sound deep in his throat, dark and low. He bent forward, twisting to move in closer, tongue extended and sharply pointed. He skimmed the tip experimentally across the same spot. 

Minato bucked in response, but those ever-present strong hands didn't let him pull away. He was suddenly breathing very hard, so much he felt light-headed. Akihiko's body pressed in closer, crowding him — but this time it felt good rather than agitating. The furnace-like heat pouring off of him added to the twisting fire in Minato's stomach. 

Minato felt moist breath hit him before the flat of Akihiko's tongue did. It lapped a line up the length of his vein, but merely as a distraction before zeroing in on that exact spot. Akihiko swirled the center of his tongue across it, swaying his head side to side in gliding strokes to hear Minato gasp underneath him. He leaned in, pressing with strength from the root of the muscle, flexing and rolling his tongue against it.

The muscles in Minato's core were trembling out of control. He kept thinking at _some_ point Akihiko would back off, roll his lower lip up over the spot and pull away to smirk at him, but it never happened. Akihiko withdrew his tongue with a slurp, but immediately pressed the tip forward again, maintaining his position. It wriggled slowly at first, then faster, drawing a faint line across and around the magical spot. When it tapped a period at the end of the line, a high-pitched whine slipped out of Minato. 

He promptly smacked his hands over his mouth, dropping his head and shoulders roughly onto the desk behind him. Akihiko snapped, grabbing forcefully onto Minato's thighs, gripping hard as he drove forward to push his advantage. His tongue traced and flicked in merciless patterns over the same tightly focused spot. Beneath him Minato _writhed_ , arms thrown flat against the desk, mouth open in a silent continuous wail. 

His hips circled sinuously, in figure-eights like a belly dancer's, threatening to pull Akihiko's prize out of his grasp. With a feral growl, Akihiko grabbed the top side of Minato's dick, heedless of his nails, yanking it backwards to ensure his uninterrupted access. His mouth descended again, sucking and nipping at the same spot, like he was preparing to devour him alive. One loud hiccuping cry broke free of Minato before he managed to yank his moans back into the sub-vocal range.

Akihiko gave a snarl of pure vexation and _let go of him entirely_. 

Minato thrashed pathetically and whimpered in protest. When that didn't summon him back, he gathered his scattered mind enough to peel his eyes open. Akihiko was nowhere in sight.

Panting in disbelief, Minato craned his head to look for him. The other boy suddenly popped up over the horizon of the desk, shaking something white and fluffy that he shoved gruffly at Minato. "Here." 

Minato squinted at the thin square of cotton fabric unfolding in his hands. He looked back to Akihiko uncomprehendingly.

Akihiko grabbed it back with impatience. "It's," he ground out. "A." He crushed half of it into a ball. "Handkerchief!!" He thrust it back at Minato's face. 

Minato couldn't manage to focus on the blurry white blob waving in front him, let alone fathom what to do with it. 

Akihiko huffed despairingly, as if Minato's uselessness was causing him physical pain. He reached that last bit forward, and, thrusting with one finger, stuffed the fabric into Minato's mouth. 

Minato blinked at it in astonishment.

Akihiko didn't bother to wait for a response. He bent over and positively vacuumed the top third of the dick back into his mouth, tongue unerringly stabbing at Minato's sensitive spot.

Minato's hips bowed off the desk with a muffled shriek, orgasm slamming into him without warning. His whole body arced upwards, in defiance of gravity, head curving at an impossible angle to somehow anchor the entire endeavor. 

Akihiko rode the thrust with grim determination, hands gripping urgently at Minato's hipbones to maintain the connection. He swallowed eagerly as Minato yelled incoherencies into the handkerchief and clawed at the surface beneath him. He refused to let go, with his mouth or his hands — even as Minato's neck snapped back to normal, his shoulders plummeting into the wood, even as the sounds behind the handkerchief slowly devolved into sobbing — only letting him slide out when Minato collapsed bonelessly onto the desk and blacked out.


	6. Chapter 6

Minato regained consciousness, blinking woozy and unseeing at the dust motes swirling above him. He smacked his tongue and lips together — they felt unusually dry, for some reason he couldn't quite place. His tailbone ached, probably from banging against this hard wooden surface...

His mind came crashing back to reality. 

Had he really...? A quick glance sideways revealed the discarded handkerchief on the desk beside him. Oh god. He _had_. 

A quiet grunt interrupted his moment of horrified blushing. His environmental awareness finally expanded enough to notice Akihiko collapsed against the desk, diaphragm resting on the edge between Minato's knees. Akihiko's face was deeply flushed, eyes screwed tight and mouth hanging open. The desk was too heavy to transfer the vibrations, but, out of sight underneath, his arm was moving very quickly.

Minato blushed harder.

Akihiko gave a soft moan, eyes crinkling further, hips canting to one side. Minato tried to pull himself together. Akihiko's preoccupation gave him a bit of time to think, but judging by the redness in his face, it wouldn't be long. 

Except, it was hard to focus with the afterglow still gliding through his veins, flooding him with sex hormones and trying to pull him back under. It sang seductively for him to stop worrying, to lay back and enjoy watching Akihiko get himself off.

Minato took a deep shuddering breath, as silently as possible.

He glanced over at his senpai — cautiously at first, head averted, but straightening up when Akihiko inevitably didn't notice. He hadn't been able to do this for _days_ , just look at the other boy, without some weird subtext or power play going on. 

Admittedly, watching Akihiko's lips work silently and his jaw clench was still...excessively intimate, but it was an improvement over where they'd been. 

His eyes traced along Akihiko's furrowed brow, the eyebrows that had hounded and mocked him all day — all _week_. He wasn't sure he could handle that again. Just one day in the dorms had raised his blood pressure, leaving him jumpy and expecting every corner to reveal a silver head and that _eternal knowing smile_. He couldn't spend his entire life in combat mode! And he definitely couldn't take that anxiety onto the battlefield, juggle tactics and first strikes and the army in his head while simultaneously preventing Akihiko from staring at his ass... But he couldn't avoid him either — Akihiko was too strong to leave on the sidelines.

Akihiko's right arm bumped into his leg, as his free hand sought purchase against the underside of the desk. Minato came back to himself with a start, recalling exactly what he was looking at. His face burned with the knowledge of what was about to happen, but the vestiges of arousal surged back over him, winning out over his dread. His eyes stayed open.

Akihiko's left arm was moving slower now, in sharp, harsh strokes that made his entire torso recoil. A short guttural sound escaped each time his hand slammed home again.

Minato watched as the tension rose up his body like the tide — arms shifting, shoulders contracting, the muscles running up his neck individually cording. A breathless moment later, his hand began to jerk arrhythmically, his body curling in on itself, breath seizing quietly.

Akihiko's other hand, having found nothing to hold onto, splayed against the front of the desk, elbow locking to hold him up. His fingertips wrapped over the top edge and pressed unconsciously into the flesh of Minato's inner thigh. 

Minato froze, unable to look away, to stop cataloging each one of Akihiko's visible reactions, to shift his leg away from those fingers. Those fingers digging relentlessly tighter, becoming a sharp pinch as Akihiko's spasmed breathing finally failed entirely. 

He hung like that, silent and unmoving for an endless second, before jerking back to life and collapsing onto Minato's knee. Akihiko took in deep puffing breaths, eyelids fluttering slightly but not quite opening. 

Minato's brain was in overdrive. Was there any way to pretend he hadn't just witnessed that, hadn't voluntarily _watched_ it happen? It would be way less awkward for the both of them if he could–

"Hey." Akihiko was giving him a lopsided grin between gulps of air. So much for pretending he'd been checked out.

Leaning his forearm onto Minato's thigh, Akihiko pushed himself upright, only to immediately flop onto his hip against the front of the desk — but this time, thankfully _outside_ of Minato's legs.

Minato seized the opportunity to sit up, and finally draw his knees together again. He tugged on the hem of his shirt awkwardly, wishing it was his uniform button-down, with tails that could actually cover him. He settled for draping his arms across his lap, pretending he was massaging his stretched-out leg muscles. 

Akihiko chuckled, the sound thready through his heavy breathing. Minato looked up. Akihiko was disheveled but completely unconcerned about it. Boxer briefs formed a vise across his thighs, pants clinging on an inch lower, apparently held up by friction alone. A bright red spot highlighted each of his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled tiredly but happily. 

"Give me a second," he said. His right arm moved sluggishly around behind him, rooting awkwardly and clumsily in his unbound pants.

Akihiko's shirt lifted higher as he leaned backwards. Minato forced his eyes away, trying to avoid the expanse of pale skin framed by the stark black fabric, but the sight remained seared across his vision.

By the time he thought it safe to look back, Akihiko was wiping his hand clean on yet another napkin, and tossing it out of the way on the desk behind him. He then, mercifully, pulled his underwear back into position and, crouching down with only a slight wobble, swept Minato's boxers off the floor and into his hands.

Minato blinked. Not ready to stand up and expose himself again, even for a second, he spread the garment across his lap.

"Uh, thanks."

Akihiko grinned brilliantly at him, leaning on the desk once more for support, pinning his open pants to his hip with one hand. "Oh, wait!" His eyebrows perked up excitedly.

He bent over, pulling something out of a pocket on his shin, and held it out to Minato.

Minato took the item with some reluctance. It was a small ball contained in a strangely folded piece of wax paper. Peeling it open, he finally uncovered a piece of hard candy.

"To help you recover! I even took it out of the original cellophane so it wouldn't be loud." Akihiko beamed with pride. 

Minato nodded faintly and decided that eating the candy was easier than coming up with a reply.

Akihiko smiled and nodded decisively in return, crossing his arms in a pleased fashion. He seemed to already be recovering, all on his own. Minato shook his head, marveling at the other boy's endless stamina...and also his weirdly buoyant attitude. 

Akihiko sat down on the desk beside him. 

Minato sucked on his candy and tried not to fidget at Akihiko's nearness. The chill was starting to set into his exposed skin, and Akihiko seemed as warm as ever, even from half a foot away... He shut that thought down immediately. No way on earth was he going to _cuddle_ with his _senpai_. _This_ senpai in particular. Especially after everything that had happened.

He wondered how much longer the play would last, how soon he could escape this place and leave all his insanity behind. 

"So," began Akihiko, the edge of a rueful laugh in his voice. "What're you gonna say when they ask your thoughts on the play?"

"...Huh?"

Akihiko scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "It's just that we, kinda didn't, _watch_ much of it. The team is sure to ask, so you should have an answer ready."

"...Because it matters?" His voice went a little high on the last word.

Akihiko shrugged awkwardly. "I just thought you'd wanna have a cover story. A plan, so you don't accidentally say something suspicious." 

Minato raised his eyebrows, incredulous. He didn't know where to begin in arguing with that statement. Was it a veiled insult, saying he couldn't spontaneously and convincingly lie? Or maybe some weird compliment in the same direction? Not that _Akihiko_ could obfuscate worth a damn, sheesh. 

Plus, "suspicious"? " _Suspicious_ "!? Whose fucking fault was that? If Minato was in charge of the universe, there wouldn't _be_ anything suspicious to cover up!

He huffed in irritation and looked away, not saying anything.

"Look, it's fine," offered Akihiko. "I'm just talking, you don't have to listen to me."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the pair. 

Minato sighed as the silence dragged on. He should probably say something, break the tension or whatever. Anything that would get them out of here easier and faster.

He glanced sideways, his eyes catching Akihiko in profile — and was swamped by a vivid sense of déjà vu. This was exactly like Thursday night, back before it all started. They were even sitting in the same locations...they'd just swapped roles. This time Akihiko was inventing conversation topics, and Minato was the resistant one, being sullen and uncommunicative and hiding...his true thoughts...

His head spun with the implications. Akihiko was probably completely in the dark, just like Minato had been on Thursday — he wasn't _ignoring_ Minato's feelings, he couldn’t see them at all. _The idiot really was that relaxed and happy._ He didn't see the problem with any of this!

Akihiko leaned over, poking Minato in the arm with his elbow. "It _was_ pretty fun though, huh? _I_ don't mind missing the play..." He leered meaningfully at Minato.

At that point a wave of sound washed in from the auditorium. Both of their heads popped up. 

The audience was applauding. The play had ended.

A moment later the flood lights rose to full, sending stray beams of brightness back into their far corner. 

Still reeling, Minato gaped at Akihiko with wide eyes. The gray-haired boy smiled back reassuringly.

"Minato-san!" cried a jubilant voice in his ear.

It was too much to handle all at once. He fought down the urge to cover his face with his arms, shut everyone out for a minute. 

Akihiko leaned closer with a concerned look on his face. "Are you okay?" 

"Minato-san," scolded Shunsuke, "you really are not living up to your headset responsibilities."

Minato made a frenetic noise and pulled the mouthpiece down, startling Akihiko. He began searching behind him. Miraculously, the transceiver was still sitting on the desk, still _plugged in_ , despite all that had happened. 

He reeled it in and slammed his hand down on the transmit button. "Yes?" he demanded, voice impatient from distress.

"Ther- -ou ar-!" The crowd was clapping in earnest now, reverberating doubly-loud down the line and drowning out Shunsuke. Minato flinched at the noise level. "-atulatio- on -viving show nigh-!"

Minato wasn't convinced he'd survived anything yet. "Thanks," he deadpanned.

"N- tha- ma- -- -ings - y- -- -s."

"What?"

"C- -e- -- wh- -- -dy."

"Shunsuke-san, I can't understand–"

"-eah, sure! -ee yo- -oon!"

Minato huffed in exasperation and turned off the transmitter. "Well, that was pointless." He yanked the headset off and glared at it in distaste, rubbing at the ear where that wretched cheap foam had sat for hours. 

He turned on Akihiko, animosity immediately switching targets. "And _you_..." he tacked on. 

"Huh?" said Akihiko, shrinking slightly away from Minato's fierce expression. 

"You really don't get it, do you?"

Akihiko looked confused, and a tiny bit scared.

"You think everything is fine!" accused Minato. "You _really_ think that nothing's been damaged here!" 

Akihiko blinked owlishly at him. 

Winding up to continue, Minato leaned forward and put his hands on his hips, knocking his boxers askew. His head swiveled downward, a bolt of fury spiking through him. 

"Look at this!" he screeched, picking them up and shaking them at Akihiko. 

"...Your underwear...?" ventured Akihiko.

"Yes!" His fist thrust closer to Akihiko's face in vehemence. "Look at what you've made me–"

Minato suddenly remembered his state of undress. All the blood drained out of his face. He balled the fabric quickly back up in his lap.

"It's okay," said Akihiko, apologetic, like he already knew the rest of his sentence was a bad idea. "I, _have_ seen it already..." 

"It's not about the nudity," snapped Minato. "Well, yes, but not just that..." He threw his hands in the air. "You still don't understand anything!"

In the distance, the applause had slowly died out, and was replaced by crowd noise, interspersed with the gunshot bangs of seats snapping shut.

Minato stopped mid-glare.

Everyone was leaving. He didn't have to stay here, he didn't have to hash any of this out. Everyone else was leaving and _Minato could too_.

He was falling off the edge of the desk, pulling his underwear up over his ass, before the thought even completed. He viciously grabbed his pants off the floor.

"Whoa," said Akihiko in alarm. "What's going on?"

Minato paused his fevered dressing, in order to make it a pronouncement. "I? Am _leaving_." He shook the pants, trying to turn them right-side out.

Akihiko reached for his wrist, but Minato dodged away, leaning back to put a leg into his pants.

"No," said Akihiko, his voice firm. "You're not just leaving. Not without talking to me."

Minato ignored the blatant opposition in that statement, the better to focus on buttoning his pants with shaky hands. His head wobbled in agitation. "Not now." 

"Yes now," insisted Akihiko. "Please, tell me what just happened."

Minato flapped a dismissive hand at him, tipping over while trying to toe into his shoe. His balance was out of control, but he got his foot back on the ground, standing lopsided in only one shoe.

He'd been distracted by his stagger, and Akihiko had gotten a hand past his defenses. He gazed regretfully down at it gripping his forearm. 

"If you'd just hold on a minute!" Akihiko's voice was sincere, honestly bewildered, which made Minato reconsider for almost a second — before the weight of the past three days settled back into his head. 

His expression curdled. 

"You're not in charge of me," he said, voice dangerous and low. 

Akihiko pulled his hand back as if shocked.

"I didn't say I was."

Minato snorted. He bent down and snatched his other shoe from the ground, open belt buckle clanking against his leg.

He started speaking while still facing away. "Look, I presume you had this all planned from the beginning." He waved his head in a mocking fashion, tone turning bitter. "Ha ha, good job, you win the game!" Minato pulled the shoe on savagely. 

"But you got what you wanted, haven't you?" He finally turned to look at Akihiko, eyes pleading. "So let's just leave it here. Agree it never happened — that this stupid desk doesn't even exist — and walk away. Back to our _real_ lives."

"...That's not what I wanted," said Akihiko, quietly but firmly.

"Oh really," Minato said, dripping with sarcasm. He yanked his belt shut, far harder than was necessary. 

"Yes, really!" exclaimed Akihiko, clenching one fist. 

Minato looked at him, head slightly cocked, aggravation simmering just under the skin. "No," he declared, nodding slowly to himself. "Of course that's not what you want." His eyes flashed. "You _wanted_ to play me," he accused. "You wanted to run the show, and see how far you could take it."

"That's not it at all!" protested Akihiko. 

Minato continued, talking past him as if he hadn't spoken. "And why would you give that up now?" he asked, his voice gone oddly soft and lilting. A fake smile, sickly sweet, curved his lips.

His hand drifted forward, curiously gentle, the back of his fingers brushing along Akihiko's jawline. Akihiko flinched away and looked at him in confusion.

As soon as Akihiko made eye contact, Minato's demeanor shifted back, anger blazing out his pores. "I don't care where you wanted this to go," he growled, "it's ending here. You're not getting any more from me."

Minato jerked away from him, pulling a step back. He gazed reproachfully at the boy on the desk. 

"Our lives are too serious for this. _We_ have important shit to handle. I'm not letting this silly power fantasy of yours threaten my team."

"But that's the entire–!" Akihiko choked off despondently, mid-sentence, like a puppy who'd been kicked. 

"What, Akihiko." Minato sighed with strained patience, a vice principal disciplining the same student for the hundredth time — but the poison still bubbled underneath. "What. Do you. _Expect_. From me."

Akihiko's body tensed like he was readying a punch, a dozen thoughts swirling across his face.

"I wanted you to be HAPPY!" he finally exploded. For a moment his eyes challenged Minato, color high, breath pounding in his chest — but he cracked almost immediately, turning away and curling in on himself. 

"Happy?" repeated Minato blankly. 

"I was hoping you'd... _appreciate_ it." Akihiko's voice was nearly inaudible. 

"You were..." Minato trailed off. Something raw and uncontrolled was dawning over his face. "All this," he demanded hoarsely, voice starting quiet but growing rapidly louder, "what you put me through–" He shook his head in denial. "It's...practically harassment — and you were hoping I'd _appreciate it?!?_ " 

Akihiko looked stunned. 

"That's not what this is and you know it," he said, his voice quiet and hard.

Minato scoffed. "Are you sure about that?" His tone was half spiteful, half seductive, head tilted to one side in a mockery of Akihiko's earlier confidence. 

Akihiko stared at him in stung disbelief. He exhaled slowly, blowing the air out like he was barely keeping his cool.

Minato raised a condescending eyebrow, waiting with impatience for Akihiko to finish sorting himself out. 

A stricken expression wavered around the edges of Akihiko's features, before he forcibly tamped it down.

"Fine," he snarled, rising to his feet to glare fiercely at Minato. "Think what you want — it doesn't matter what you tell yourself."

Akihiko's eyes flashed cold. "Because you're going to keep saying yes. Because you _want_ to say yes." He looked pointedly at Minato. "And at some point you'll have to stop running from that."

Minato pulled a sour face. "Oh, yes, of COURSE," he smarmed. "How silly of me."

He waved his hands dramatically, warming to the martyr role. "I forgot that you know alllll about me. All you've done so far is tell me what _I_ think, so why don't you go ahead and _do-it-again_." The last words tumbled out of his mouth in a snarky rush, to match his jeering gestures. 

"'All' I've done?!" shot back Akihiko. "Apparently, pulling you _kicking and screaming_ out of your shell of repression counts for _nothing_."

"Because I need to be saved from myself??" snapped Minato. "Thanks so much for _once again_ deciding what's best for me."

He scowled at the older boy, and spat out his words. "I didn't ASK you to save me."

"No, you didn't." Akihiko's voice was low and cutting, in stark contrast to the increasingly loud anger of their previous volleys. "But you certainly begged for the rest of it."

An invisible fist crushed all the air out of Minato's throat. He gaped at Akihiko in overwhelming outrage.

Akihiko crossed his arms defiantly and stood his ground.

Minato was drowning in a storm, unable to get a word out, incapable of deciding what that word should be. He'd been trying to leave, he hadn't wanted to have this argument! And yet, Akihiko was managing to keep him here; everything was _still_ on his terms. 

Well, there was a clear solution for _that_ at least.

With the iciest glare he'd ever mustered, Minato spun on his heel and walked away.


	7. Chapter 7

Minato knew he _should_ exit across the stage and out the stage door, but going through the curtain was a faster route to the booth — and a thousand times more satisfying.

He _had_ chosen the stage right corner rather than tossing the curtain open center-stage — surely that counted for something. He wrestled the heavy fabric aside, flailing angrily with his elbows when the folds threatened to close in around him. 

He emerged on the other side slightly dusty and still pissed off, but otherwise intact. Already the world felt less constricted, the air fresher and cooler. He flipped his hair out of his eyes and hustled down the side steps before anyone could notice.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Shunsuke was surveying the auditorium from the door of the booth, thumbs hooked in his belt loops like a proud father.

"Minato-san!" he hailed the approaching boy.

Minato nodded brusquely in return. "Shunsuke-san."

Shunsuke grinned. "Great show tonight, eh?" 

"Yeah," replied Minato distantly.

"You did a great job out there earlier. You just might have a future in this club."

It took Minato a minute to even remember their scene change duties; luckily that was more than enough time for Shunsuke to have moved on to another topic. 

"You here to surrender that ball and chain of a headset?" He winked. 

" _Yes_ ," Minato affirmed, reaching for his pocket. "I'm ready to get my own headphones ba–." He stopped short. The radio wasn't there. 

His mind tumbled into rewind. With all the fighting, he'd forgotten to pick it up again. The radio wasn't there because _he hadn't been wearing pants the last time he used it_. 

Minato's cheeks grew warm at the memories, such commingled anger and embarrassment he couldn't tell them apart. 

"I..." He stared down blankly; his brain wasn't supplying him with any words. 

"Was waiting for me! Here's your headset, Minato."

Minato's neck tensed at the familiar voice behind him. He whipped around. 

Akihiko held out the radio, a perfectly composed and collected expression on his face. "I was supposed to bring it to you," he said, talking past Minato to Shunsuke, "but clearly I was too slow!"

His eyes flicked back to Minato, and he smiled truthfully. "Sorry about that."

Minato's eyes narrowed, but he accepted the device, turning to hand it to Shunsuke.

"Thanks," said Shunsuke, ducking into the booth with it. Minato took the opportunity to shoot Akihiko an accusatory look, but Shunsuke was already popping back out the door.

"The club is holding a party later, you're both welcome to join us." Squeaking wheels heralded the arrival of Namiko, pushing the spotlight towards the booth for storage. "Namiko-san! Tell them how great the party is!"

She paused, resting her arms on the large tube. "Oh yes," she exclaimed, voice soft even when excited. "It's always fun, you should definitely come. I believe we're going for karaoke this time."

Minato's head spun sickeningly, at the thought of being trapped in a small room with this group of strangers, and HIM. Not to mention all the suggestive things Akihiko could pull off in a karaoke club.

Akihiko cut in smoothly. "Sorry. It sounds wonderful, but we have commitments back at the dorm. Mitsuru will be expecting us."

Minato shot him another look. This was all suspiciously gracious. 

"Ah, yes," Shunsuke nodded, eyes wide. "Kirijo-san is very formidable, that is a wise choice."

Akihiko chuckled knowingly, his first display of actual personality since showing up. "So, thank you for the invite, but we probably should be going."

Minato's eyebrows lifted at the 'we.' He personally didn't intend on following Akihiko _any_ where.

Shunsuke nodded again. "Thanks to the both of you for all your help!" Namiko simply smiled.

Akihiko inclined his head politely and walked off towards the exit.

Minato watched him leave, shocked to still be standing there, unmolested, under his own free agency. Akihiko continued right through the door, not even stopping to undermine things with a rude expression.

By the time Minato looked back, the others were gazing at him expectantly. He realized he should say something. 

"Er, I wanted to thank you again, Shunsuke-san. I really enjoyed working with you."

Shunsuke smiled sincerely. "So did I, Minato-san." His expression turned oddly serious. "Hey, best of luck to you, okay?" Over his shoulder, Namiko gave a heartfelt nod.

"Yeah, okay..." he repeated in confusion, wondering why this conversation had gotten suddenly emotional. "Good luck to you too. Have fun at the party."

He nodded at them both and wandered towards the exit, feeling bewildered by the world at large. 

The squeaking resumed for a moment as they put the spotlight away. He was halfway to the door by the time they spoke, but he could hear them well enough. 

"I hope those two manage to work it out."

"Oh yes, Shunsuke-kun," sighed Namiko, "me too."

Minato pushed through the door with a horrified expression. He flattened against the other side of it and took a deep breath. This night could not be over soon enough. After a few seconds to calm his heart rate, he wiped his face blank and peered out of the door well.

The refreshments table was only a few feet away, so he was spotted immediately. "My MAN!" cried Junpei, from his seat atop a throne of empty transport trays. Behind him Fuuka tittered and Aegis visibly brightened.

" _Guess. What_." If Minato didn't know better, he'd swear Junpei was drunk. But no, there was Mitsuru, talking to one of the custodians; surely no illicit beverages had been consumed on her watch. 

He raised an eyebrow, and Junpei took that as answer enough. "We sold out of drinks, and the packaged stuff has to go back to the school, but the mochi and cakes are OURS."

Fuuka giggled again. Yukari rolled her eyes, moving to stand between Junpei and the table as she made a selection from among the leftovers. "He says 'ours', but I'm pretty sure he means 'his'!" she stage whispered. 

Junpei shrugged. "Eat faster, is all I'm sayin'." He punctuated his statement by elaborately stuffing the entire mini-cake into his mouth.

Watching him, Minato abruptly flashed back to the sensation of the handkerchief entering his mouth, cotton catching on lips gone dry from panting. He grabbed onto the edge of the table against the sudden wave of dizziness.

Aigis materialized at his side. "You look pale. Are you well, Minato-san?" 

"Yes, Aigis." He smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine." 

"Consume a sweet," she urged. "The sugar may provide you with some energy." 

Minato glanced over at the rest of the team, hoping they were writing this off as Aigis' normal fussing. Maybe if he ate something, she would relax. 

He headed around the other side of table to survey the options — and stopped halfway through a step, weight shifted onto the leading foot. Akihiko was already standing there, opposite Yukari, doing that exact thing. When had he gotten there?? 

Akihiko selected a daifuku from the platter and raised it in Minato's direction like a toast. He took a bite, teeth flashing in a perfectly normal, non-obscene fashion. "Oh, the anko is really good," he announced to the table at large. 

Minato had already committed to that side of the table, so he forced himself to keep walking. 

"Only because you haven't tried the melon, senpai," said Yukari. 

Fuuka slid forward with interest. "Oooh, there's melon! Which one?" 

"Those square-ish ones I think? Or maybe it was skewered..."

Junpei hopped off his throne to protect the foodstuffs. "Just keep your hands off the chestnut cake!" he cried, crowding in behind the girls to snake another handful.

As they squabbled, Minato sidled up to Akihiko, just close enough to mutter at him while pretending to peruse the spread.

"What exactly are you doing?" he accused under his breath. 

Akihiko finished chewing and swallowed. "Enjoying my red bean paste." 

"You know what I meant."

"No, Minato, I don't know what you mean." Akihiko looked at him sidelong. "I'm not trying to fight with you."

"Well I'm trying to end this once and for all!" 

"That's _enough_ , Junpei." Across the table, Yukari elbowed Junpei for his gluttony. "I want to take some home for Ken-kun!" 

Junpei had managed to acquire all the remaining cakes, a row of them stretching down his arm. He couldn't fend off Yukari physically so he fought back in words. "Ken-kun didn't do any work for these! I did _two_ jobs — and I didn't eat anything all night!"

"I didn't get your buy-in the first time I asked," hissed Minato, "so I certainly don't trust this nice-guy routine you've got going." 

"All night?" scoffed Yukari. "You were at the archery club's cafe for an _hour_." Her eyes blazed with fury. "I'm sure you got plenty to eat there." 

"I'm not pretending anything," Akihiko said wearily. 

"Hey, I paid for that food," sputtered Junpei. "In support of _your_ club!"

"So, just like that it's over?" Minato snorted in contempt. "Tell that to you 10 minutes ago."

"In support of ogling me, when I _told_ you to stay away!" exclaimed Yukari. 

"You really wanna discuss this here?" Akihiko questioned, the sole voice of calmness in the entire group.

"I'm allowed to eat dinner!" protested Junpei.

"I don't _want_ to discuss it anywhere!" Minato muttered vehemently. 

Yukari waggled her head. "There was a whole _festival_ where you could eat dinner."

"Now who's the one not letting it die?" Akihiko pointed out. He reached to straighten the platter on the table, as if nothing serious was going on. 

"I didn't put you in that costume!" shouted Junpei, leaning back to shield his precious cargo from the girl fuming in front of him.

Minato paused. "...Fine," he spat. "But this better be the end of it," he finished menacingly. Trying to stick to his cover, he unseeingly grabbed something off the tray and jammed it into his mouth. 

"Do you _want_ a Garula up your ass?" shrieked Yukari, smacking Junpei on his exposed elbow. 

"Tell that to _you_ ," muttered Akihiko, just as Minato was stepping back from him. His eyes were still facing forward, his voice pitched low, but his patience had clearly eroded. "Tell that to you later on, tonight and tomorrow and the next day. Every time you can't forget it."

Fuuka got an arm in between the quarreling pair. "It's okay," she soothed. "The cafe is over now. And Junpei is going to stop after eating those...right?" she asked sternly.

Akihiko finally broke character and turned to face Minato, eyes sharp. "Because I'm not the one you have to convince." He spoke quietly, but the growling intensity in his voice rung out into a sudden silence.

The other side of the table stopped mid-wrestle, a frozen tableau of strife gazing across at them with wide eyes. 

"...Senpai?" someone ventured curiously. 

Minato patiently chewed on his candy, eyebrows raised, waiting with the rest of them for Akihiko to explain himself. 

The gray-haired boy stepped backwards with an awkward laugh. "I...already said the bean paste was good, no need to convince me!" 

The others looked skeptical. 

"Minato told me to eat another one," he tried again, in a slightly more believable tone, "but I can't have that much sugar in one day!" 

"So you were not arguing?" intoned Aigis. 

She always managed to be insightful at the moments he'd prefer she be ignorant. "No, of course not," said Minato. 

Yukari glanced over at Junpei, clearly torn between continuing to pound him and questioning Akihiko further. "But..." she began, shaking her head in confusion as she turned forward again, "wh–?"

She broke off when Mitsuru appeared at the head of the table. Mitsuru was brushing hair out of her face and looked every bit as weary as her long week warranted, but was still operating in her presidential capacity. "The proceeds have been tallied and locked up," she announced, "the festival is officially over." Minato rejoiced in silence. "Thanks to all of you for helping make this evening a success." 

She let go of the public persona, her shoulders visibly sagging. "Now..." Her voice turned strained as she surveyed the group in front of her. "If we're done causing scenes in a public hallway, perhaps we can go home."

Everyone had the decency to look ashamed. The trio of second-years gently disentangled from each other. 

Mitsuru gestured at the tray of food. " _Someone_ please wrap that up so we can get out of here." Her eyes flicked incredulously towards the frosting stains on Junpei's jacket. "Anyone but Iori, I suppose."

Junpei lifted his chin and cradled his remaining hoard closer to his chest. "I regret _nothing_ ," he pronounced. 

Everyone else was still busy eyeing each other with various degrees of suspicion and guilt, so the task fell to Fuuka. She darted forward and began piling the leftover pieces onto the plastic wrapping they'd arrived in.

" _Thank you_ ," said Mitsuru, sounding sincerely grateful to have one thing in the world tidied up. She pressed her fingers against her sinuses.

Fuuka smiled at her sweetly as she gathered it into a bundle. "I'm glad to help, senpai. You've been working far too hard this week." The two of them turned and started to walk away together. 

Akihiko breathed a barely audible sigh of relief and followed the two girls.

Yukari gave Junpei one final shove as he went past her, making him stumble forward. "I'm not forgetting about today," she warned. "You're still on notice for showing up at the cafe. And so are you, Arisato-kun!" she called across the table.

Minato turned to reply, and jumped when he realized Aigis was standing right in front to him. "I will keep a watch over you," she vowed. "I believe you might be unwell."

"No, Aigis! Really, I'm fine." He tried to start walking, but she didn't move. "You don't have to do that." She continued inspecting him. "Please don't do that."

Yukari sighed. "Come along Aigis. He's fine, you don't need to worry." Aigis made an indeterminate noise but she acquiesced and followed Yukari. 

Minato shot Yukari a grateful look. She leaned back as she walked. "Now you owe me _twice_ ," she whispered loudly.

Minato nodded, agreeing to her terms. The three of them hurried and caught up with the team as they exited the building.

Outside, the wind smelled like autumn — and freedom. 

It was a beautiful evening, the cityscape radiant across the water, stars prickled faintly above. He was so used to seeing this view tainted by the Dark Hour, every gold shifted green, the city muted and dwarfed by the hulking behemoth at their backs — that he'd actually forgotten the campus existed at night.

He glanced over his shoulder. The school stared impassively back at him, backlit by the rising half-moon. It was over, he really was leaving. A small, keen smile broke over his face. Sure, he'd be back, six days a week and nearly as many nights, but never again like _that_. Not trapped without an escape, imprisoned on that damnable desk. From here on he'd have the protection of the school day, where Akihiko was under constant surveillance from volunteer "bodyguards," or else his SEES armband and all the authority that entailed.

He allowed himself some celebration as he traipsed along behind the team. He imagined hauling that desk out onto the lawn, and gleefully tossing Agilao gems until it went up with a whoosh. He watched the flames licking across the surface, spreading and leaping higher, and one corner collapsing in a shower of sparks. He didn't realize the grin he was wearing until Aigis, who was still eyeing him with regularity, shot him a funny look. He wiped the manic expression from his face and mouthed "I'm fine!," staring back until she gave up. 

Minato gave an internal sigh of relief. Temporarily freed from her scrutiny, and safely ensconced at the back of the group, he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the silver-haired boy up ahead. Akihiko was chatting with Junpei, presumably because the "cake king" was least likely to bring up the incident from the hallway. 

Junpei's armload of cakes had been eaten down to a wrist-full, leaving him free to gesticulate with his right hand. He was waving it vigorously in support of some wild tale when Akihiko tossed his head back and laughed heartily, throwing himself into sharp relief under the streetlight.

Minato's stomach lurched, and slowly began to wind itself into a knot, something enormous and looping, one of those complicated binding hitches known only to sailors and woodsmen. 

Which, really, made no sense. The festival was over. Starting now, life should go back to normal — he even sorta had Akihiko's promise on that. Plus, he'd dodged a bullet with the team. Other than Aigis, everyone seemed to suspect that something was up with Akihiko, not Minato.

So why did he have this feeling of foreboding? 

Akihiko seemed to sense his stare. He glanced back at Minato and licked his lips nervously. 

Okay, so that was kinda weird — but at least an edgy Akihiko wouldn't maliciously hit on him in public. Which, was a serious upgrade over the previous Akihiko he'd had. He really did have all sorts of reasons to be hopeful! 

And yet. Minato's shoulders drooped lower. And yet...

He sighed. 

And yet, dammit, he still looked _really_ good in those pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!
> 
> Thank you very much for reading. This story has been bouncing around in my head for such a long time...I still remember the boring meeting back in 2008 when lightning first struck. Things were on fire until I got thoroughly stuck on Act 2 and stopped writing for the better part of a decade. >8( Shockingly, the world moved on during that time period, and our fandom is a lot quieter now...but I know I'm not the only one who still loves these characters and I'm happy to be contributing to my favorite universe.
> 
> Kudos and comments will be welcomed with undignified grinning. (I say this on behalf of all writers...you have no idea how much feedback means to us. If you are thinking happy thoughts about someone's story, let them know!)
> 
> There are currently 5 followups planned in this series, already in various stages of progress. I enjoy this incarnation of M & A too much to walk away from them here! There's definitely some fun stuff to come. The later stories will probably be shorter in length, as I'm aiming for a mix of relationship exploration and one-shots. However, I make no promises...I've learned that my mind refuses to write a sex scene without the backstory. (See the 25k you just read, which all stemmed from one mental image of smirky aggressive Akihiko, and the thought, "ooh, put them backstage alone, that'll be fun." Apparently even the most inconsequential things must be plausibly grounded into the game universe. _*glares at demanding brain*_ )
> 
> This means that additional stories are _absolutely_ coming. However, I write slowly, so don't be alarmed by the passage of time between installments — it doesn't mean I've abandoned the project. If you'd like to be kept informed, try subscribing to the series!
> 
> Much love, ~riya


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